


A Night on the Town

by SteeleStingray



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Adoption, Attempted Kidnapping, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Damen and Laurent are government agents, Damen and Laurent are married, Date Night, Found Family, Gambling, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kidnapping, Lamen Dad, M/M, Modern AU, Nicaise (Captive Prince) Lives, Nicaise is a good big brother, POV Alternating, Sex, Strippers & Strip Clubs, this one's wild even for me, this story is pure chaos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27032413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteeleStingray/pseuds/SteeleStingray
Summary: After adopting their new baby, Damen and Laurent have not had a chance to go on a date in the past 8 months. Damen convinces Laurent that they can handle one night out to relax and enjoy themselves while Nicaise, their adopted teenage boy, insists that he can handle a single night of babysitting.With just 13 hours to enjoy themselves, what could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Lazar/Pallas (Captive Prince)
Comments: 273
Kudos: 237





	1. 6:00PM I Trust Him

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my dear and lovely readers!  
> It's been a while since my last story ended but I can honestly say I've had no unique and compelling ideas up until very recently. Thanks to some lovely people in the Captive Prince discord (specifically thickenmyblood) I've been able to write the first 5 chapters of this story within the past 2ish weeks haha! What a mystery.  
> In any case I've decided to explore 2 new things with this fic: Lamen Dad (always a fan favorite) and a Nicaise-centered story. I've honestly always liked stories from the side characters and I realized I've never done Nicaise, so I figured it would be a fun challenge. The first 6ish chapters will be told from Damen and Laurent's POV but then afterwards, it's all Nicaise, which is when things will really get wild. I hope you'll stick with me till then ;)  
> Anyways! It's so good to be back! I've missed you all and I hope you like this story! <3

Damen never got tired of watching Laurent dress, knowing that he would get to methodically undress him later that night. The crisp white button-down shirt, the tailored black slacks, the violet tie and skin-tight socks and silky briefs would slide so nicely through his hands and leave a colorful pile on the suite floor. Then they could do all they liked, just as they had when they were eighteen and uninhibited in an empty house. They wouldn’t have to limit it to the bedroom or those rushed moments in the car before coming home either; in a hotel there was no need to worry about being interrupted. He could have Laurent on the bed, against the window, over a desk, in the bathtub--

“ _ Damianos _ .” His clipped accent, that frosty tone, and Damen’s full name was clearly a sign that Damen’s salacious thoughts had been reflected on his face. “At least let me eat dinner first, for fuck’s sake.”

Damen pressed his hands over Elyas’ warm little ears just a split second too late. “In front of the baby, Laurent?”

“It’s an auspicious sign in Vere if a baby’s first word is ‘fuck’.” Laurent said as he shrugged on a black vest in the same material as his pants. “Shows that they’ll have a good smart mouth on them. At least I’m not thinking about  _ fucking _ while my baby is sitting on my knee.” Elyas looked back at Damen and gave him a bright gummy smile, as if he was in cahoots with Laurent, trying to make Damen feel guilty. 

“Can you blame me for being excited?”

It was their first date in months. 

He and Laurent had never gotten tired of going on dates as their relationship progressed from high school sweethearts to lovers to the married life they enjoyed. Dating kept things exciting and fresh while also introducing them to some of the more creative places two grown adults could feel each other up in a pinch. 

Elyas had thrown a small wrench into that. 

Eight months old and pudgier than belief, Elyas had been adopted by them at two days old. He took more after Damen than Laurent; likely Patran, he had long curls that were almost auburn under the sun, smooth brown skin, and wide eyes the same color as treacle, his lashes as long as Laurent’s. He was a happy, friendly baby--prone to giggling fits and talking to his family members in a language of his own devising--but he was a baby all the same and was therefore a lot of work.

He slept through most of the night now but he was definitely preparing to begin crawling, which Damen anticipated would present a whole new set of challenges.

He was beloved but he made it hard to muster the energy for dates.

It was hard to feel virile and sexy and spontaneous on three hours of sleep, covered in milky spit up and--more recently--crusty dried bits of mashed fruits and vegetables. It was difficult to justify going for one round, much less their usual three or four, when all Damen wanted to do at the end of the day was take off his shirt and pants and collapse in a snoring, drooling mess next to Laurent. Their ‘date nights’ had become half of a movie after Elyas’ bedtime until one or both of them fell asleep on the couch.

Sexy. 

Laurent sighed. “No...I can’t blame you. You Akielons were never good at keeping your emotions in check anyway.” 

“Bold words from  _ you _ ,” Damen said as he rested his cheek on Elyas’ downy head, the smell of clean clothes and the expensive baby lotion Laurent liked surrounding him in a comforting cloud, “after how long it took for Nicaise to convince you that he can handle an overnight babysitting job.” Laurent’s image in the mirror narrowed his eyes, “Nervous as a wet cat.”

“He’s only fourteen.” Laurent said in a way that made Damen regret teasing him. Nicaise had spent the better part of a week and half in vicious debate with Laurent over his ability to watch Elyas for exactly two hours, put him to bed at 8PM, wake up to feed him at 2AM, and remain in the house until around 7AM when Damen and Laurent came home. It was clearly something he wanted desperately; no one dared to try and negotiate with Laurent unless they were dead set on something. If Laurent backed out of the date or--worse--called a babysitter, then Nicaise would never forgive Damen.

“ _ Already _ fourteen.” Damen amended, setting Elyas on his hip so that he could get up and kiss Laurent’s head. “Hell, babysitting is innocent as a dream compared to some of the things I got into at fourteen.” It was that recklessness and love of getting involved in danger that had gotten him into his current profession. “Can’t imagine what you were doing at that age.”

Perhaps sensing Laurent’s consternation, Elyas squealed and banged his chubby fists against Damen’s hipbone. Damen looked down to make sure his baby wasn’t going to start bawling--that would not help Laurent’s current mood--and to check that no spit or snot were making wet circles on his nice black shirt. When Laurent looked, Elyas grinned at him, sweet enough the melt even the hardest of hearts, and Laurent melted accordingly.

Damen handed Elyas over without complaint, relishing the baby giggles as Laurent deliberately peppered his face with kisses. He also kept Elyas carefully distanced from his clothes. “He’s a good baby.” Damen insisted, gently pinching a bit of soft baby cheek between his thumb and finger. “He’ll be good for Nicaise.”

“I worry…” He was right to worry. After all Nicaise had been through...it would be unnatural  _ not _ to worry. And Laurent liked to feel secure knowing that both of their boys were safe.

“If you don’t let him do this,” Damen said as he gently massaged Laurent’s neck, “he’ll start sneaking out like you did in high school, you little delinquent. Stealing wine and getting in fights and  _ fraternizing  _ with Akielons.” Laurent gave him a long look, very similar to the look he had given Damen on their first meeting when Laurent was sixteen and angelically beautiful and filled with more poison and fury than an irritated adder, when he had looked at Damen with barely restrained disgust, called him a whore, and threatened to whip his ass.

It was the moment that Damen had fallen in love with him...after of course calling Laurent’s bluff for a fight. 

“Reinforcement.” Laurent murmured and kissed Elyas’ head. Damen took their baby back so that Laurent could apply three spritzes of expensive cologne. Just that one word was enough for Damen to know. 

Laurent wanted Nicaise to know that he could rely on them. That he did not need to prove anything to them. Laurent worried because he  _ knew _ , he knew all too well…

“I know. But you’ve got to hand it to him: he’d push the both of us in front of a train and laugh before he put Elyas in danger.” Damen frowned as he remembered how Nicaise had thoughtfully braided him a colorful flower crown one afternoon at the park, only to discover later that he had done so to attract the bugs and bees to Damen so that they would avoid Elyas. “I...I trust him.”

Laurent turned to look at Damen, allowing himself the vulnerability of showing raw emotion. He took a steadying breath. “Ok.” Then a smile, “How do I look?”

“ _ Gorgeous _ .” The word spilled out of him helplessly. “Maybe we ought to just skip straight to the hotel after all.”

“If you don’t stop…” He did not finish his threat, instead stroking Elyas’ curls as the two of them walked out of their master bedroom and into the main living area.

Sitting at the breakfast nook on his phone, looking like an angel in repose, was the main source of Damen and Laurent’s concern. Gangly and pale, with twin sparkling aquamarine studs in his pink ears, Damen felt a slight sense of trepidation when he saw the boy.

Nicaise was in a role somewhere between ‘son’ and ‘younger brother’.

At fourteen, he was just a bit too old to be the child of Damen and Laurent, but the age gap was quite large for a traditional brotherly relationship. Watchful and sharp as a young hawk, his pale blue eyes narrowed slightly at Damen, as if assessing a threat, before he relaxed and slid off the seat of the breakfast nook. 

For Laurent, his smile was close-lipped and cautious but Elyas got him to brighten to a full-blown grin, his face heartbreakingly lovely. Distrustful and sharp to anyone older than him, Elyas was the best thing that had happened to Nicaise since Damen and Laurent had taken him in. 

And the feeling was mutual. 

Elyas flapped his arms and legs, incapable of keeping his joy limited to a smile, and squeaked with joy as Nicaise took him and squeezed his body. “Lyas! We’re going to have such a good time. We’re going to play blackjack and hire some strippers, maybe get a big pile of drugs. It will be great.” Laurent fixed Nicaise with an even, terrifying stare even as Elyas seemed delighted with plans. Damen just sighed and hoped that neither one of them would needle the other for too long.

“Very funny.” He said, ruffling Nicaise’s wild chocolate-colored curls. Even that little bit of intimacy had been hard won. It had taken two years before Nicaise even got within an arm’s reach of Damen, much less allowed a casual touch. “I don’t think you have the money for any of those things yet. Unless you plan to pay in Elyas’ rice snacks.”

“The party goes on until you get back in the morning and pay me.” Nicaise shot back, never forgetting that Damen had offered him babysitting money. “Pay them with my ‘I let my guardians have a night to fuck loudly’ money.” The  _ mouth  _ on him; it would surely get him in trouble.

Laurent ignored him in favor of going to double check their home security system and the camera they had installed in the living room, the actions clearly making Nicaise more irritated than if Laurent had risen to his argument. Even after all these years, he was still hoping to outfox Laurent. 

Laurent spoke leisurely, as if to himself, though really he was talking Damen and annoying Nicaise all in one. It really was impressive to see two Veretians go at each other. “Let’s see Damen. The camera is on, the alarm is on, diapers and onesies have been washed, bought the baby food--”

“You’re going to be away for  _ one night _ .” Nicaise groaned.

“What am I missing?” Laurent turned to Damen and Damen felt Nicaise’s glare burning a hole into his cheek. Damen silently apologized to Nicaise; he was willing to risk the boy’s ire in favor of--what had he said?--having a night to fuck loudly.

“Emergency contacts.” He added and heard Nicaise make a noise like the beginnings of steam out of a kettle.

“Right.” Laurent snapped his fingers and strode past them to his library for a piece of stationery. 

“Keep it reasonable.” Damen called as an afterthought. “We have to leave in a few minutes.” Laurent would come back with a scroll if it would annoy Nicaise. Nicaise and Elyas both followed Laurent with their eyes before snapping back simultaneously to Damen. Elyas’ smile was soft and sweet as honey while Nicaise’s had the sharp, crackling edge of granulated sugar.

“Make sure he doesn’t text me every five fucking minutes, meathead.” Nicaise hissed, apparently not realizing that insulting names did not pair well with asking for favors. 

Damen raised one eyebrow. “What in god’s name makes you think  _ I _ can stop him?”

“What do I fucking do then?” Nicaise asked, desperation plain on his face.

“Ask him yourself and quit cursing in front of the baby.”

Elyas regarded their hissed argument with joy, two knuckles in his mouth.

Laurent stepped back into the living room, waving a piece of paper so that the ink he favored would dry faster. Damen deliberately closed his mouth, making it abundantly clear to Nicaise that this was his fight and Damen had zero intention of getting involved.

“Emergency contacts.” Laurent said without preamble as he tacked it to their massive refrigerator. “Fire, city guard, poison control, Auguste, Dr. Paschal, et cetera. I know you have them in your phone but…” But Laurent was thorough and protective.

Damen could practically  _ feel _ Nicaise’s indignation, his slim body clenched tight. Elyas snuggled gently into the gap between Nicaise’s chin and chest, clearly giving him a dose of courage.

Squaring his thin shoulders, Nicaise turned to Laurent with imploring eyes. “Laurent, you have to promise me.” Laurent raised his eyebrows; he was not used to people having the gall to tell him he ‘had’ to do anything. “Promise me you won’t text me every goddamn hour asking for updates.  _ Promise _ .” His light blue eyes glimmered with intensity. “You all have the cameras and the alarms, I have the personal and work phone number of every government agent in Marlas, and I know Lyas’ schedule down to the hour. Trust me.”

Laurent waited for a long moment and only years of loving him allowed Damen to see the blue spark in his eyes, the subtle way his lips upturned. He was letting Nicaise sweat, like a cat lazily batting at a feisty bluebird.

“Alright.” Laurent cracked a smile as Nicaise visibly relaxed, Lyas giggling as he snatched at Nicaise’s curls. “I’ll keep it to a minimum.”

Clearly the magic words, Nicaise began trying to unsubtly herd Damen and Laurent towards the front door before Laurent changed his mind. At less than half Damen’s weight and height, Nicaise could hardly hope to force Damen to go anywhere he didn’t want to go but Damen indulged him because he liked the boy and because he also wanted his date with Laurent to start. He allowed himself to be pushed towards the front door.

“You’re going to be late to your reservation; you know these swanky places will cut you loose if you’re a minute past the schedule. Laurent’s too much of a snobby rich bitch to be fine with a family diner.” Laurent smirked as Nicaise pushed his lower back with his free hand; the boy had no way of knowing that teenage Laurent had spent his fair share of time smoking thin Veretian cigarettes and trying to pickpocket drunkards in the parking lots and alleys near diners. That Laurent, in his brother’s leather jacket, would have called Nicaise worse than a ‘snobby, rich bitch’. 

Nicaise ripped the door open and Damen was fairly sure he felt Nicaise’s slippered foot kick firmly against the back of his upper thigh as if to really drive home that he would be babysitting solo tonight and he would beat the both of them out of the house if he had to. The little heathen.

Laurent turned, as if he was going to give one last reminder, but Nicaise must have been expecting it.

“Say ‘bye’, Lyas.” Nicaise said bouncing the baby softly in his skinny arms. Lyas gurgled happily, his eyes almost lost in the blushing fat of his cheeks, and Damen and Laurent were too weak to him not to smile in return.

His sweet baby noises followed them like a good omen as they started their first real date in eight months. 

The restaurant and hotel were in the Central Arrondissement only a twenty minute drive from their home, against the flow of rush hour traffic. Damen kept his hand resting lightly on Laurent’s thigh the whole time, hoping that his light squeezes would keep Laurent from compulsively texting Nicaise. He understood Laurent’s protective nature as much as he understood Nicaise’s abject desire to have a little responsibility but Laurent  _ sometimes _ listened to his advice while Nicaise rarely did. 

“Where are you taking me then?” Laurent asked lightly.

He hated surprises unless he was the one planning them. Careful and plotting, Damen knew it must have taken a conscious effort on Laurent’s part not to discover the plans Damen made. “Almost there.” 

He and Laurent both had expensive tastes for food, clothing, and wine as a side effect from their affluent upbringings and Damen pulled out all the stops for their first night out. The reservation he had made before Laurent had even agreed to the date, simply because it was a new, fashionable place and tables were extremely exclusive. 

“Tease.” Laurent murmured in that softly sweet way of his when he was feeling indulgent.

It took everything for Damen to keep his eyes on the road and not on Laurent’s elegant profile, illuminated by the firefly flashes of the city lights.

When they pulled up to the curb next to the restaurant, Laurent’s eyes seemed to have caught the lights they had passed. “Damianos, you  _ didn’t _ .” He was gorgeous when he was excited and the color was high in his cheeks. “Auguste told you about this place didn’t he?” A cornerstone of their marriage and love, they were prone to blaming the good taste of each other on their respective brothers. 

“As I recall, I have good taste in things.” Damen insisted, pretending to be offended as Laurent snorted in disbelief. “I mean, I am married to  _ you _ .”

“True.”

Damen was going to suggest that Laurent leave his cell phone in the car to spare Nicaise for around two hours but Laurent was too quick for him, his phone slipping into his jacket pocket as soon as the thought passed through Damen’s mind.

The update of Laurent’s text came half a second later and Nicaise responded with: “It’s been 20 fucking minutes! Text me again and I’m turning off the cameras.” To which Laurent rolled his eyes.

_ Sorry, kid _ .

Damen exited his car so he could help Laurent out of the passenger seat. A swirling amalgam of pride and jealous protectiveness stirred in the pit of his stomach as he noticed the valet and the maitre’d and every guest in a fifteen foot radius turn to stare, thunderstruck, at Laurent. Laurent did not seem to notice, as he curled his hair behind his ear and smiled up at Damen. It was unreal how breathtaking Laurent was.

He seemed not to notice the stares as he slipped his hand in the crook of Damen’s elbow, his head resting lightly on Damen’s shoulder. “Ready to stay up past bedtime, daddy?”

Damen had to pause before they could enter the restaurant, as the sentence--and more importantly the ‘daddy’--had caught him in the stomach right above his pelvic bone. Laurent, like any good husband, was laughing hysterically and left Damen behind in favor of going into the restaurant. 


	2. 7:00PM-8:00PM To Becoming Boring Adults

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back loves!  
> I really miss writing about food (after the cookbook that was Touch You) so I'm happy to be back in a restaurant setting. And there's the hope that I can make some of you hungry haha!  
> Also this chapter and the next are kind of just exposition to show how much Damen and Laurent love each other and their lil kids ;)  
> Also Laurent, despite his cool and collected exterior, is a huge ball of nerves right now, especially since you kind of get a couple tiny snapshots into Nicaise's past life here.  
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for reading and leaving some love!

It was the kind of jewel-box restaurant that--alarmingly for some--did not have prices on the menu. But Damen was unconcerned; he had yet to see a restaurant bill that shocked him, considering the sheer number of family members he had eaten with while growing up. He was looking over the menu while Laurent was fixing their hostess with a smile that had her tripping over words.

He was reasonably sure that it was the combination of Laurent’s extraordinary good looks and silver tongue that got them the amazing table upstairs with the full view of the city skyline. The pretty hostess was replaced by an equally pretty waiter who seemed unsure of who was more deserving of his attention, his head comically snapping back and forth between Damen and Laurent.

Damen didn’t even touch his menu in favor of motioning at Laurent. “Order as much as you like. My treat.” 

Laurent's smile was a bit feline, a bit wicked but there was genuine love in his eyes and the color of his cheeks. “Showing off, are we?”

“Anything for the man who bore my sons.” Damen said errantly and Laurent choked back laughter as the waiter looked at him with confusion behind his professional smile. “But I’d like the champagne taster course with our dessert, please.”

He scarcely listened to what Laurent ordered in favor of watching the fall of hair against Laurent’s cheek, the elegant column of his throat, the way his lips moved as he spoke...Damen knew his smile was a little dreamy, bordering on addlepated, but he couldn’t help himself. Almost eight years on and he was still utterly charmed by Laurent. 

He was even charmed as Laurent drummed his fingers unthinkingly against the dark screen of his phone. As if he wanted to type something. “You promised.”

Laurent did not remove his fingers, though they did stop tapping. “Distract me then.”

Damen had heard that phrase enough in their bedroom to have the words put color in his cheeks immediately. “ _ Laurent _ . At the  _ table _ ? In front of all of these people?” Laurent’s eyes narrowed at Damen’s Veretian interpretation of the words. Damen started to loosen his tie and Laurent burst out laughing.

“I’ll pour you some water if you’re so thirsty. Would you prefer it in your glass or on your head?”

“Should we talk about work then?” Damen segued to one of Laurent’s favorite topics; even though they were both on paternity leave and would remain so another fourteen months until Elyas was two, they were both so passionate about and essential to their department that they both still worked at least one day a week, going into the office about once a month.

“Talking shop on a date? Have we really become  _ those _ parents?”

“Well it combines some of the things you love best.” Damen said as he ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “Plotting. Complaining. Causing havoc. And critiquing Nikandros.” Laurent’s renewed laughter caught the attention of several other diners in the nearby vicinity.

“It’s a wonder anything gets done without me.” Laurent said, once he had sufficiently recovered, even though his eyes were shining. “Especially with Nik in the lead in my stead.” Damen shook his head as he smiled; Nikandros was fantastic at his job but Laurent had somehow made a separate career of teasing Nikandros at every opportunity. 

“Distracted you though.” Damen looked pointedly to where Laurent’s hand had drifted away from his phone.

“Work’s a bigger bitch than Nicaise.” Laurent said fondly. “Oh look, the wine.”

It was true.

When they had first joined--Nikandros, Damen, and Laurent--the case files had seemed endless and daunting, like the proverbial needle in the haystack; only this stack was made entirely of needles, sharp and painful and always promising blood if someone got too close. No one had expected Nik’s brutal pragmatism and single-minded focus or Damen’s tenacity and sheer tactical brilliance when it came to guerilla city warfare. Least expected by their quarry was Laurent’s determination and ability to think ten steps ahead and his razor-sharp cunning. 

They loved their work even though it despised them.

It was their work that brought them Nicaise three years earlier. Nicaise, dressed in less fabric than a pillowcase offered, with makeup smeared around his eyes and mouth, his gaze just as icy sharp and blue as it was on the computer screen.

Now  _ Damen _ was tempted to check in. 

He had the app for the security camera on his phone but he made the mistake of meeting Laurent’s eye. Their waiter had just finished pouring wine into Laurent’s glass and he sipped it triumphantly. “I’ll be the last to stop you.”

“Knowing Nicaise, he’ll have bought black spray paint to cover the lenses.” 

“Little delinquent.” 

“That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

“What?” Laurent asked as Damen took a sip of the wine. It was good.

“Giving Nicaise spray paint.” Damen clarified. His therapist had recommended introducing creative outlets and Nicaise would like the vandalism aspect of it. “Surely there’s a class or--oh gods, we  _ have  _ become those parents. Can’t talk about anything but work and the kids.”

“Cheers to becoming boring adults.” Laurent said, lifting his wine glass. 

“I’ll drink to that. To the hot gay dad in my area who I  _ hope _ wants to message me.” He was delighted that Laurent’s wine sloshed around in the bell of the glass as he tried to hold back another peal of laughter.

The glasses clinking together sounded a bit like a cell phone’s ringtone and the both of them--boring adults--looked to the phone on instinct. 

It took no less than three of the kitchen staff to bring their meal to them, a plate balanced in each hand. Damen snatched his wine glass to make room. Laurent seemed unaffected, as if everything was perfectly in order.

“Gods Laurent,” Damen said as he looked at the sheer spread of what his husband had ordered, “I see Kastor finally improved your palate.”

“Shut up.” Laurent responded cheerfully as he took a sip of wine. 

Five courses dotted their table like technicolor splashes of paint. 

A frothy confection of microgreens dripping some kind of dark magenta beet vinaigrette. A tiny charcuterie set with fragrant cuts of cheese, all blue and white and orange, and savory jams set in shallow porcelain dishes. A ceramic plate of duck breast, medium rare, with skin like glazed brown sugar and sauces in lemon and plum. Six creamy soups in bowls only slightly bigger than shot glasses, their colors the rich burgundy, yellow, and white of the Akielon royal seal. 

In the center of it all was a platter of seafood delicacies, no more than two or three bites each, on a bed of crushed ice. Roe and caviar like piles of delicate orange and black beads, red spider crab pate, buttery seared scallops resting in violet shells, strips of squid bathing in a sauce of sea salt and their own black ink, and fish; endless strips of fish in pink and orange and creamy white.

The smells mixed in a heady amalgam around Damen: sweet, salty, briny, savory, winey…

It was heaven after the easily-assembled deli meat sandwiches, ten-minute pasta, and leftovers he and Laurent favored these days. Only years of lessons from his mothers kept him from tearing into the spread at breakneck pace. Laurent also ate with the unhurried fussiness that belied his good breeding.

“Good?” Laurent asked, his tongue peeping out for a split second to catch a droplet of violet plum sauce on his lower lip. 

Damen was busy sliding a generous helping of caviar onto a cracker. “Yes. Elyas would approve.” 

Laurent smiled as he remembered. Auguste, Damen’s brother-in-law, was so obscenely, unthinkingly wealthy that he did kind but wildly eccentric things--the type of man who had no idea how much a jar of tomatoes cost and would cheerfully leave a two hundred dollar tip on a sixty dollar tab. He had dropped by their apartment for no particular reason with premium Kemptian caviar in a yellow tin the size of a wheel of brie. Cracking it open with Elyas on his lap, Auguste had let the delighted baby take large fistfuls of the stuff straight from the tin into his open mouth. 

“We’ve got to get him acclimated to healthy food.” Auguste had said, uncaring as caviar slid off Elyas’ elbows onto Auguste’s expensive tailored pants. “And there are so many good nutrients in it.” 

“Just buy a smaller can next time.” Laurent argued back, though there was no bite to it. “He’s a fucking  _ baby-- _ it probably weighs more than he does.” Elyas gnawed on his wrist, all but Damen too preoccupied to hear Nicaise murmur that caviar tasted like something else. Something quite crude. 

Auguste nodded. “I’ll see if they have any smaller ones for next time.”

Damen had simply sipped his espresso at the breakfast nook, cowed by the one-two punch of Nicaise’s filthy mouth and the thought--no, the premonition--that Auguste would show up someday with several thousand dollars worth of caviar, only this time in smaller tins. 

“If we bring him to this restaurant, then it’s all over.” Laurent said, also reaching for the seafood. Then, in a perfect imitation of his older brother: “But  _ Laurent _ how will we know what they truly have to offer here unless we order one of everything?”

“He’s going to spoil our boys rotten, I swear to the gods.” Damen had no room to cast judgment. If Kastor was left unchecked then he would buy Elyas and Nicaise a dowry’s worth of very real jewelry-- “It’s Akielon  _ tradition _ to give gold to your nephews and nieces, Damianos!” “Kas, he’s a  _ baby _ ; he’ll grow out of it in a month…” “I look better in silver, Uncle Kastor,” Nicaise had added unhelpfully. But Damen understood a little. 

On the rare occasion that their little family watched a movie together and everyone was warm and crushed up against Damen on the couch--Laurent on his left, Nicaise reluctantly on right, and Elyas asleep in the crook of his arm--he would have moved heaven and earth for them.

He  _ loved _ them.

For their first fine meal in what felt like ages, they ate with very minimal conversation, only really pausing to recommend a dish or to refill their wine glasses. Meals at home had to be eaten in snatches either when Elyas was asleep or playing with Nicaise. Otherwise he demanded their attention; they had learned better than to try and eat at the same time as him. 

Elyas was a notoriously messy eater, fond of slamming his palms into plates of food, flecks of mashed carrots spraying across his auburn hair and delighted face and whoever else was unlucky enough to be standing in the blast zone. Nicaise did not help in the least, Elyas mimicking his joyful laughter.

Laurent finished eating first, taking bits of the crushed ice to chew on when no one was looking. Damen shuddered remembering how, when Laurent had first offered to give him a blowjob, it was when he had a wedge of ice in his downy cheek, his smile promising the most wintry blowjob in existence. 

Damen was embarrassed that he was still aroused by the thought.

“Still haven’t kicked your ice addiction have you?”

“Veretian, remember?” Laurent said, a diamond chunk of it resting between his teeth. “Have to replenish the ice water in my veins.”

“Cold-blooded, hot tempered,” Damen said fondly, “just the way I like you.”

“I’m not hot-tempered.” Laurent lied boldly. 

“I know of a certain house of a certain someone’s murdered uncle that would disagree.” Damen said, bringing up one of Laurent’s favorite early dates of theirs. He had looked angelically, vengefully beautiful, the elegant planes of his face illuminated by the cheerful orange of the burning house.

“I request that we do that again.”

“You’re going to have to give me time to buy a burnable house.”

“Boo. Any other brilliant plans for the night?” Laurent’s grin had a feline wickedness to it as he crunched more ice.

Damen loved him viscerally in that moment; he remembered the knife’s edge that was teenaged Laurent’s beauty, how it had sharpened with age and still cut him to the quick. He wanted to go to the hotel immediately. They should have just ordered room service and eaten it in between rounds. 

“Let’s make another baby.” Damen said before he could quite stop himself. 

Laurent’s cheeks were twin spots of crimson, his flustered reply only halted by the appearance of their waiter and the little cart he was pushing in front of him.

“Champagne, sirs.”

The bubbling glasses were lined up in five neat little rows, two to a row, and bite-sized paired desserts flanking them on either side. Laurent, weak to sweets even when he was a bitter spitfire of a teenager, eyed them keenly, scoping out which ones he would claim. Damen smiled, contemplating if he should also choose the ones Laurent wanted just to watch him glare.

No… he did not want to get in an argument with Laurent on their first date in ages, especially after his ‘making a baby’ quip.

“Go on, fairest.” Damen plucked up the first of the champagne glasses. The bubbles tickled his lips as he watched Laurent pick something frothy and chocolate with tiny violet flowers resting against the top. 

Quite on instinct, Laurent carved it down the center with his spoon and dipped his little finger into his half of the chocolate, as he did whenever he was going to share half with Nicaise and a tiny taste with Elyas. He wilted a little when he realized their boys weren't there.

“Next time,” Damen promised earnestly as he took the dessert Laurent had spurned. He thought about asking for it to go so Laurent could give it to Nicaise.

“I thought we agreed that I’m the only one allowed to read minds.” Laurent said.

“For once it’s showing on your face.” Damen smiled back at him and saw Laurent’s eyes move unsubtly to the bit of cheek where his dimple was. “And I’m a bit of an expert at looking at your face.”

Laurent looked at him as though he was contemplating flinging a spoonful of chocolate at Damen’s head. Damen braced himself--it would not be the first time Laurent caused a scene in an upscale restaurant--but the spoon went to his mouth and not at Damen. 

His eyes flicked to the dark screen of his phone and Damen waited for the inevitable.

“Think it’s been long enough?” Laurent asked lightly. “It’s past eight…”

“Why not?” Damen said, polishing off the last of his first glass of champagne. “Ask him if Elyas is asleep.” If he didn’t keep to his schedule, Elyas became fussy in a sobbing, lower lip quivering way that could break hearts.

Laurent’s fingers flew across the screen; he had clearly been chomping at the bit to text Nicaise and Damen’s phone vibrated only a moment later with the message Laurent had sent to their ‘family’ group chat.

‘It’s past 8PM. Text me when you’ve gotten Lyas to sleep.’ And then, almost as an afterthought: ‘I’ll come home to you soon.’

Damen knew after years of being with Laurent that this was the way Auguste had always ended calls with him, that this was Laurent’s subtle way of saying that he was not going to abandon Nicaise. It was still too much for either of them to say aloud but...Damen knew Laurent’s various ways of expressing ‘I love you’ after so long together.

Laurent sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Feel better?” Damen asked.

“I’ll feel better once he actually sends me an update. Knowing that blue-eyed hellion, he’s not going to text me with an update for a while, just to make me squirm.” Though he said it with only mild annoyance, his eyes flicked to the phone screen...waiting…

Laurent noticed him smiling. “What?”

“I worry about them too. If he doesn’t text back within the next half an hour, I’ll have Jord and Nik swing by after their shift at 10 to check on him. Sound good?” They both had a key to the house and their combined level of stone-faced intolerance to bullshit, which unsettled even the most egotistical and fearless of men, irritated Nicaise to no end. “It’ll take them fifteen minutes tops.”

Laurent visibly relaxed the tension going from his shoulders. “Yeah, he’ll like that.” 

Silently, Damen apologized to Nicaise for not trusting him immediately; he simply hated seeing Laurent so nervous. And Laurent was always nervous when young boys were on their own, much like he had been so long ago. Damen drafted a message to Jord and Nik as he began the countdown to 8:45. 


	3. 9:00PM Did I Stutter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex? In the 3rd chapter? You may be wondering: Steele, why so soon? Well, I mean they have waited 8 months for this haha! Can't let a moment go to waste. Also while some may argue that this is gratuitous and the chapter could be used for something more productive, I hear you, but I am also mad horny so...this is what you get haha!  
> In any case, thank you all for reading and leaving some love; you have no idea how much reading your feedback boosts my mood as it gets colder and darker into November. I hope you like this sweetness cause honestly it might not last long <3  
> Enjoy!

The hotel was about a ten minute drive from the restaurant and it also happened to be the nicest in the city. 

Damen wouldn’t take Laurent to anything less.

It was one of the centerpieces of the city skyline, usually patronised by visiting dignitaries and wealthy socialites and other people with money to burn. Damen liked to use hotels like these as love hotels, a way to make things romantic and exciting.

Unlike Laurent, who’s idea of ‘exciting’ was flirting with danger and the city guard.

“I wonder if they have cameras in the gymnasium,” Laurent said errantly, as if in passing thought. Damen sensed the inherent threat and his mind immediately jumped to Laurent spread eagle on a weight bench, sweating and flushed…

“Easy.” Damen said, swatting Laurent’s perfect little behind. “We haven’t even checked in yet.”

As Damen was checking them in, Laurent decided to be absolutely no help whatsoever. He wrapped his arms around Damen’s waist--well...a little lower than the waist--melding himself to Damen’s back. Damen distinctly envisioned in his mind’s eye how Laurent looked under those fine clothes of his as he handed over his credit card without comment, his renegade dick uncaring that he was in a very public lobby. Laurent was laughing, unrepentant, as Damen had to remove his jacket and drape it carefully over the front of his body so that he did not cause a scene on the walk to the elevator.

“Just you wait.” He promised and Laurent smiled at the threat.

They had the elevator to themselves and Damen did not help his own situation as he remembered eighteen-year old Laurent who’d been a bit of an adrenaline junkie. In elevators without other people or cameras, Laurent had liked to see if he could use his mouth to get Damen off before they made a loop from the top floor back to the lobby and emerge unruffled. There  _ was _ a camera in this one and Damen kept at least an arm’s length of distance between himself and his husband. Laurent was smiling as he inspected his fingernails.

Of course Damen had booked one of two suites on the top floor and he felt his heartbeat in his mouth as Laurent followed him to their half of the floor. He opened the door with a click that made his heart stutter and turned the moment he passed the threshold.

Laurent jumped him before the door closed.

He hopped up, his legs wrapping around Damen’s waist, and Damen cupped his back and butt to keep them both from tipping over and falling to the floor. Their lips met as Damen pushed Laurent up against the wall; one of Laurent’s hands was in his hair and the other pressed against a wall, knocking a framed picture to the floor. 

That was one of the nice things about being with Laurent: each kiss felt like their first one.

Desperate, messy, bordering illicit, Damen felt the rush of Laurent’s carefully repressed desire like heat and adrenaline and dark liquor. 

Belts hissed like whips as Laurent found his hands and thrust them to the buttons and zippers. Gods, Damen wished they had brought the actual whips, the crops, the cuffs and ropes and--

It had been ages since a good long night to themselves and Damen wanted a little bit of everything. 

He stumbled a few more steps so they were at least out of the entryway and broke the kiss so that he could press Laurent’s upper body firmly against the wood of the dining table. Bless the hotel staff, they had followed his instructions to the letter without batting an eyelash: three brand new boxes of the condoms he preferred, two packages of wet wipes, a stack of soft, dry towels, and two neat little lines of different types of travel-sized lubricants left out for their convenience. 

“They’re going to think you’re a whore.” Laurent joked, regarding their stash. They’d definitely need every last drop of that lube.

“Do whores usually pay for hotel rooms this swanky?” 

“Good ones, maybe.” Laurent said and reached his hand back to knead Damen’s crotch. Damen groaned, tossing his head back. Even when he had Laurent pressed down and presented in front of him, Laurent somehow managed to have the upper hand.

“Well…” He was not above some roleplay, “then I’ll have to pull out all the stops for my beloved customer.”

He yanked Laurent’s pants and underwear down to his ankles, revealing a perfectly toned ass and pair of legs that Damen could not have come up with even in his filthiest fantasies. The first time he had seen Laurent bare from the waist down, they had been skinny dipping in someone’s private indoor pool, Laurent the delinquent picking the lock so that they could sneak inside. Damen had had to think of every unsexy thing in the world in order to keep from ejaculating in the warm water. Laurent, as usual, did not help as he dove and rose in a sinuous S so that his buttocks always crested the surface. 

His skin was all supple moonlight, cream lining, finer than the marble beauties of antiquity because his beauty had glowing liveliness. Damen had cum three times into his hand after going home from their little pool adventure and very little had changed now.

He pulled himself out of his silk briefs if only to allow more room. 

He could be a tease too, the length of his warm middle finger tracing Laurent in a smooth line from balls to lower back, “If you’d be so kind to pick your poison, I can apply it back--”

“ _ Fuck _ !” Laurent grabbed a bottle of lube at random and threw it at Damen’s abs. 

Damen caught it easily and did not even bother to unscrew the lid in lieu of snapping the cap off entirely. Laurent shivered as the oil was poured on his lower back and it dribbled down the curves of his legs and ass. Damen used his thumb to rub the oil around one of his favorite spots, Laurent hitching his knee up on the table top for a better angle. 

Normally Damen would click his tongue and pull the offending leg back down but...Laurent was the ‘client’ in this particular scenario and therefore he made the rules. Instead he explored a bit with his fingers, watching as Laurent gyrated into the touch. Damen leaned down to Laurent’s sensitive ears and had to bite back a laugh as he jumped.

“Hand me one of those boxes, would you?”

“No need for these.” Laurent demanded, swiping the condoms off the table like a cat with a coffee cup. “It’s been ages and we can take a bath after a round or two. I want it raw.”

“Lau--I mean,  _ sir _ !”

“Did I stutter?”

“If you  _ insist _ ,” Damen breathed, delighted by the brilliant ideas of his husband--or his client. Anything to serve. 

One hand pressed on Laurent’s lower back and Laurent reached his arms out to grip the sides of the table. When they had made love for the first time, Laurent had been almost silent. No matter how much pleasure Damen gave him, Laurent was coiled tight with the little moans and gasps he wanted to let loose. After several years together, there was no further issue. 

Damen pushed in in one smooth thrust and Laurent’s nails left long grooves in the wood. Thank the gods their room had no neighbors; Laurent was no longer hesitant about making noise.

Damen would have to buy the hotel a new table or at least pay for restoration and varnish for the long scratches Laurent had left in the soft wood. It looked like someone had let a panther loose in the room. 

Laurent was beyond caring, his cheek resting against the cool table surface as he caught his breath. Damen looked at him and was filled with a helpless mix of amazement, love, and desire. He allowed his husband all of a minute to catch his breath as Damen sent a deliberate text and waited.

“What are you looking at?” Laurent said, finally coming down from his high and noticing the addlepated grin on Damen’s face.

“The meal I’m going to enjoy after our bath.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Laurent said, even though he flushed at the implication. For some reason, Laurent was all talk unless Damen was giving without intent of reciprocation. Then he was suddenly blushing.

“Can you walk to the bathroom or should I carry you?” Damen said, ignoring Laurent’s order. 

Laurent stood smoothly but there was a distinct quiver in his legs as he walked through their main room towards the master bedroom. His hips jolted as Damen playfully slapped his behind. Stubborn thing; though the two of them snarled and snapped at each other like cats and dogs, he was just like Nicaise.

Just the sight of the master bedroom--with the frothing bouquets of orchids, the sweeping view of the city, the warm lowlights, and the massive bed--had him thinking of all the possibilities… Laurent’s bare ass bouncing lightly as he walked did not help matters.

Laurent glanced behind him to see why Damen had stopped and his voice was deceptively light and sweet. “ _ Really _ ? Again?”

“Forgive for being weak to the charms of my husband.”

Laurent stopped as well to kick off his shoes and socks. “Don’t lose your nerve now.” Damen needed no further invitation and moved up behind Laurent and began to kiss and suckle at the length of his neck. A slow build-up and then...

Completely ignoring the bed, Laurent pulled the duvet to the floor, resting his body on it as he pulled Damen on top of him. Damen slid his hands up under Laurent’s shirt to pinch and roll his nipples. Laurent’s toes curled against the wooden floors and Damen made a mental note to leave a  _ very _ generous tip for the cleaning staff as Laurent ground his hips into the blanket.

They were in this position when Damen heard the knock at the door. “Come in.”

“The fuck--?” Laurent hissed as Damen pressed on top of him and then glared softly as Damen shushed him. 

“Ordered room service,” Damen whispered in response as he looked towards the door. He would not invite them in any further but...he could pretend that the possibility was on the table. Laurent had always liked the idea of Damen being edgy and nervous but still aroused whenever he was drawn into some dangerous corner or secluded side room in public. Laurent, as per his usual temperament, was no help whatsoever, his body rocking against Damen’s.

True to form, Laurent’s eyelashes fluttered as he heard the footsteps in their living area and Damen slid into him. He was tight enough to make Damen hiss. 

“We... _ already ate _ …”

Laurent clenched hard as they heard the staff member wheel in whatever Damen had ordered; he didn’t even remember what it was, the food was just an excuse. “Hello, sir? You instructed us to bring the food in; where would you like us to leave it?”

Damen leisurely began to thrust his hips forward, Laurent burying his face in the duvet. His voice was steady. “You can just leave it on the table, thank you.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like these in the bedroom?”

Laurent’s keening was muffled to a whisper as Damen twisted both of his nipples. “Oh no, that’s quite alright. My husband is in the bath right now and I’d hate for you to catch him in a towel.” Only Damen was allowed to bask in that view.

“Understood. I’ll just--” Damen nearly collapsed on top of Laurent as Laurent snatched one of his hands. It went over Laurent’s mouth as he came for the second time that evening. “Oh gods! Sir it seems that your table--”

“Oh that?” Damen was torn between pleasuring Laurent and keeping a sane conversation while Laurent was winning. “My fault I’m afraid,”  _ that was the truth _ , “I put my...my luggage there and it was scratched all to hell.” Laurent clearly objected to being called ‘luggage’ and dug his fingernails into the muscle of Damen’s backside. “I’ll--I’ll pay for it.”

“Would you like our maintenance crew to bring up a new table?”

Damen almost burst out laughing at the expression on Laurent’s face. Of course the hotel staff had sent up the chattiest waiter in their employ. Damen would leave a substantial tip for them as well.

“No,” it came out a bit more like a groan than he had intended, “no, thank you. We won’t be using the table much, I don’t think.”

“Ah, I see. Anything else you need then before I go?”

Laurent had somewhat recovered and began to roll his hips back into Damen’s, the evil little thing. Damen responded by pressing his entire body down onto Laurent, crushing him into the bedspread. “N-No, thank you! That’s a-all we’ll need.”

“Enjoy your stay with us, sir.”

Damen was already  _ heartily _ enjoying his stay and began to time his thrusts with the one squeaking wheel of whatever service cart had been used to haul the food up to their room. His legs were sweating by the time he heard their door open and he lost himself not long after. 

He suctioned his mouth onto Laurent’s smooth throat and his vision went white as he came. It was one of those slow, stuttering orgasms that had his muscles quivering helplessly; he’d never had orgasms like that until he met Laurent.

“Happy?” Laurent breathed once Damen removed his hand. It was wet and red from bites that Damen had not even felt. 

“Exceptionally. Still think you can walk to the bathroom?”

Laurent bristled with the challenge and it took all of Damen’s love for Laurent to keep from teasing him when Laurent found that he could not walk steady. 

Baths always sent Laurent into a state of warm dreaminess that Damen had often likened to a cat in a patch of sunlight.

His head lolled and his limbs were limp around Damen as Damen expertly rubbed shampoo into the wet gold of Laurent’s hair. His grumble of complaint was more of a squeak as Damen stopped and Damen laughed. “Laurent, I can only wash your hair so many times before it starts falling out of your head.”

“A small price to pay.”

“I’m fond of it where it is, to be very honest.”

“Conditioner next.” Laurent requested at a mumble.

Weak to his husband when he was in a cuddly mood, Damen obediently applied conditioner and soap and—after the bath was over—dried Laurent off and applied lotion to his legs and feet. Laurent liked those little acts of care, he was weak to them. The third time, Damen murmured, would be slow and tender.

Damen was kneading the warm clean skin between Laurent’s shoulder blades, relishing the little noises he made when Damen worked out a knot, when Laurent propped himself up on his elbows.

“Did Nicaise ever respond?”

“Highly unlikely.” Damen said, grasping blindly for his phone as he nipped lovingly at Laurent’s earlobe. “Ah yes, and the crafty little bastard did something to the video monitors.” He helpfully showed Laurent the blank screen of their camera feed and Laurent rolled his eyes. 

“I swear to the gods on high,” Laurent’s sigh turned into a moan as Damen used his bare hips to massage into Laurent’s ass, “if Elyas is up all night from lack of sleep, I’m going to make him wake up every time to take care of the baby. See how he likes his schedule interrupted.”

“He’s fourteen and surprisingly responsible. Let him be a tiny bit rebellious. Though...I love when you’re being a Veretian ice queen. Makes me want to watch you  _ melt _ .” 

Laurent moaned again as Damen took his massage a little further, his hand sneaking around to the front of Laurent’s hips, pumping slow and luxuriant. Laurent raised his hips up for easier access but Damen wouldn’t let him off so easily. With a tsk of his tongue and another liberal application of lubricant to his palms, Damen pushed Laurent’s hips back to the bedspread.

“Sir,” his breath was warm against Laurent’s ear and Laurent shuddered, “if you keep moving around then the massage won’t be as effective.” He kissed Laurent’s earlobe again and Laurent glared at him.

“What kind of massage involves licking a customer’s ear? It hardly seems sanitary.” 

“I read on your file that you were a difficult one. You must have a lot of tension in your shoulders and neck and--.”

“Also, is it company protocol to massage customers in the nude? Do you expect reciprocation? I have not been licensed, I’m afraid.” Roleplay with someone like Laurent bordered between exciting and irritating; never again would Damen pretend to be any sort of driver in their bedroom games, as Laurent had extensive knowledge of safety and road violations that could cause even Damen’s cock to wilt. “Also I--”

“ _ Sir _ ,” Damen interrupted smoothly and Laurent wriggled as he resumed the ‘proper’ massage, “if you continue to complain so loudly, you’ll disturb our other customers. If you need something to muffle your voice, I’d be more than happy to provide you with something.”

“...wh-what exactly did you have in mind?” He was flushed, interested.

Slow and tender, Damen had promised and he intended to keep it. He would take Laurent apart until he shuddered and sighed, but...he had never promised Laurent would be able to make noise throughout. He raised his eyebrows and reached for his discarded silk tie and made an expert knot in the center. 

“If this suits you?” 

Laurent’s eyes glittered.


	4. 10:00PM You Have our Fucking Attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back all! Haha the date night has gone...a little awry ;)
> 
> At least we get Jord and Nikandros this chapter! My last fic featuring the both of them has them as fools for each other so this time I gave them 2 settings towards each other: sarcastic, passive aggressive jabs or outright fighting haha! Also Damen and Laurent are such good and loving parents, this is hell for them... 
> 
> At least commenters who are waiting for murder Lamen don't have to wait much longer! Enjoy (?)

The interruption came at a quarter past ten.

Damen and Laurent had taken a short interlude between their lovemaking to hydrate and for Damen to actually massage Laurent’s lower back to keep it from aching in the morning. 

“All we need are some fish oil supplements and I’ll be just like my father when he and my mother go on their romantic vacations together.” Laurent sighed as Damen rubbed his thumbs in the dimples at the base of Laurent’s back.

“I can’t  _ believe _ you know that about your parents.” Damen shook his head.

“I can’t believe you  _ don’t _ .” Laurent propped himself up on his elbows. “With how well you sling that thing around, I find it annoying that I haven’t completely corrupted your demure and prudish nature.”

Damen smiled as he heard what he wanted to hear, drowning the rest out. “You think I sling it around well?”

Laurent laughed in disbelief as he rolled his eyes. “Really? That’s what you’re going to focus on?” Damen was focusing incredibly hard though most of his attention was centered on how good Laurent’s ass looked while being cupped and massaged by dark hands. “Dami _ anos _ !” Laurent’s voice rose an octave, his Veretian accent thicker around Damen’s name. 

Damen pressed himself in one firm line against Laurent’s back, his hands remaining where they were but his lips gently nipping and licking at the sensitive skin of Laurent’s ears.

Laurent was shifting back against him, leaning into the touch when Damen heard the buzzing.

At first, his heat-addled brain thought that the buzzing came from a toy of some sort and his mind began to get away from him with all the fun activities they could do with such a thing. But Laurent crushed his dreams and his diaphragm, elbowing Damen out of the way.

“Who in the hell is calling us?” Laurent groaned as he reached for his phone. “Can I not just have one night out of the year to let my husband fuck me at his discretion?” Damen started laughing, even though he also agreed with Laurent’s complaint.

“It’s probably Jord and Nikandros calling to tell us how they busted up the crazy party Nicaise was throwing while we were away.”

“Nicaise better not have.” Laurent’s tone was threatening until Damen slapped the generous curve of his ass. He yelped and glared back at Damen who was entirely unrepentant.

“As if you didn’t throw a wild party or two in your time.”

Laurent, wild-eyed and uncaring as a teenager, had taken advantage of his brother being away at school and his parents being away on business to throw wild Veretian parties in his massive home. Despite his enthusiasm for the chaos of it all, Damen had noted that Laurent had never seemed to actually, honestly  _ enjoy _ the parties he threw. He seemed to have a much better time once everyone had left and Damen stayed behind to help clean up and to flirt lightly.

Now that they were older and he knew more of Laurent, Damen understood the need for the parties a little better.

“Unknown number.” Laurent showed him the screen once he had gotten a hold of his cell phone.

“Could be someone from work.” Damen suggested. There were so many people in their department, so many using burner phones that unknown numbers were fairly common in their line of work. 

Laurent shrugged and tapped the speaker button. “Hello?”

“I-is...is this Laurent?”

“Isn’t this the kind of thing you normally confirm  _ before _ you call someone?” Laurent made his tone particularly cutting but there was a smile threatening his lips. He was relishing being an enormous pain in the ass.

There was some murmured conversation, a little panicked, in the background before someone more assured took the phone, their tone a little more menacing. “From our intel, it seems you are the Laurent we’re looking for.”

Laurent rolled his eyes. He was beyond dealing with rude new hires while on paternity leave and his first date in months. “You have my attention for the next ten seconds. After that, I have to go so that my husband can--”

Damen had been excited to hear exactly what it was that he was going to be doing to Laurent after the call ended, but the mystery caller on the other end had a trump card to make the both of them immediately lose interest in lovemaking.

“We have the boys.”

Laurent’s mood changed instantly. 

His face blanched of all color and wickedness and Damen heard the breath catch in his throat. “ _ What _ ?”

“The ones you left alone in your house.” The voice on the other end of the line sounded more assured, more victorious now. “The teenage brat with the blue eyes and the little baby? Elyas and Nicaise?” Now it was Damen’s turn to stop breathing; many people in their office knew that they had adopted Nicaise but only a few knew his name, even fewer knowing Elyas’ name. In fact, it was really only their family and close friends. And he did not recognize the voice on the other end of the line. He and Laurent glanced at each other, for once, both at a loss for words. “If you don’t believe me…”

There was some murmuring in the background and Damen noticed that the phone was trembling infinitesimally. Laurent was shaking as he held the phone, his breath coming in soft, short gasps as they waited.

All trembling stopped, Laurent freezing up tight as a new voice came across tinny and furious from the other end of the line. Clearly the silvery, unbroken voice of Nicaise, he sounded at once furious and terrified. 

“Who the fuck-- _ stop _ ! Let me  _ go _ ! You  _ bastards _ ! Motherfuckers! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you  _ all _ ! Stop!” Then the fury was gone and it was cold, tinny fear of a boy who knew very well what might happen to him if he was kidnapped by strangers. Damen had heard similar cries from countless poor souls that he and Laurent had seen in grainy videos, had tried to track down. “ _ Stop _ !  _ Please _ !”

There was the sound of a soft thump of something hitting the ground. At first, Damen thought Nicaise had fallen down but the phone picked up another noise that was almost Pavlovian to Damen and Laurent.

They had woken to the noise countless nights and felt the soft reverberations against their chests as they had rocked a seemingly inconsolable Elyas back to sleep. 

Across the phone, he was crying, wailing like someone had hurt him and the effect was instantaneous. 

Laurent’s knuckles went white as he gripped the phone and--since Damen was the only one with him--he allowed his anguish to be stark on his face. It was not an expression Damen liked to see there and, under normal circumstances, he would do whatever he could to soothe Laurent back to sweetness and smiles. But he was feeling a little too murderous at the moment to be much comfort. 

He had felt anger in his line of work before but never had someone directed their torture at his family. 

This anger was rippling up from some unknown well in the pit of his stomach. Like liquid fire, his fury bubbled up to his throat and had his mind twisting with black, violent thoughts. Whoever was on the other end of the phone was going to regret putting their hands on Nicaise and Elyas, regret putting that expression of helpless horror on Laurent’s beloved face. If they were hurt--

“ _ Lyas _ !” Nicaise’s scream was anguished before someone muffled his voice and Laurent clapped his free hand over his mouth to keep from making a returning noise of distress.

“So we have--” He seemed like the type to gloat unnecessarily and Laurent was not having it.

“Of course you have our fucking attention.” His words came out in cold darts. “I would be deaf not to have noticed the cries of two children. The question remains: what do you want from us?”

“You bastards and your team pissed off the wrong person.”

Laurent’s eyes flicked to Damen for a moment and through the fear was hard resolve. Whoever had taken Elyas and Nicaise had no idea who  _ they _ were dealing with. Damen and Laurent would hunt them mercilessly. 

“That hardly answers my question.” Laurent reiterated in the same calm, infuriating tone. If the kidnappers were hoping for tears and hysterics, they had chosen poorly in calling Laurent. While Damen blazed hot and broke bones, Laurent became colder and sharper until he began to say things that he didn’t mean. “Of course it is clear that someone powerful and resourceful with little regard for the lives of children has decided to pick a fight with us and put us at a disadvantage. You have our children and thus the both of us at rapt attention and yet you cannot do more than gloat. Do you have demands? Do you want money? Do you want us to meet you somewhere? Must I repeat myself a third time? If you find yourself incapable of response, please find someone who can so that I might work towards getting Nicaise and Elyas to safety.”

There was shocked silence on the other end of the phone.

Despite his terror and fury, Damen did feel a rush of pride for his husband and his ability to verbally subjugate men who had called him with demands. They had gotten the right phone number but conveniently left out Laurent’s razor-sharp mouth. 

The man on the other end sounded pissed as he recovered. “Keep your phone close. We’ll call you with further instructions later.”

Damen sensed that the call was about to end and he felt a rush of cold desperation.

He wanted to call out and make wild demands. He wanted absolute assurance that Nicaise and Elyas were still alive and...he wanted to tell Nicaise that they were coming. The boy had never expected to be saved the first time and he likely wouldn’t hold his breath to be so lucky again. 

Damen wanted him to know that rescue was coming, no matter what. 

But it would be no good to beg these men and let them know the true depth of his desperation. If they knew they could...hurt Nicaise, hurt  _ Elyas _ , and force Damen and Laurent to listen. He snapped his mouth shut and saw Laurent bite the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything else.

The line went dead a moment later and Laurent exhaled audibly, pain on his breath.

“ _ No-- _ ” The phone fell from Laurent’s hands to the bed and Damen caught his husband’s forearms to steady him. He thought desperately of something to say that would soothe Laurent but he was also too distraught to form a coherent thought. 

Minds and hearts racing they--

This time it was Damen’s phone that buzzed with a call and he nearly broke several pieces of furniture in his haste to answer. They had to know; the kidnappers were likely reveling in the truth that--despite Laurent’s cool head and Damen’s silence-- they had Laurent and Damen at beck and call. A single missed call could result in tragedy and they both knew it.

“Them?” Laurent’s voice was choked.

Damen had answered without even looking at the caller ID. “Damianos here.”

Jord’s voice was infuriatingly calm as Damen heard Nik raging and cursing in the background. “Damianos. We’re in your apartment right now.”

“Jord.” Damen felt like his words were coated in flames, pain in his throat. 

He had completely forgotten that he had asked Nik and Jord to go check on Nicaise after their shift. Dinner had seemed like ages ago. Hell, their lovemaking, which had seemed so tantamount only a few minutes before, now seemed like a distant and peaceful dream. Though it had been months since they’d been on the job officially, Damen felt the intensity of a hunt coming back to him as easy as breathing.

For a moment, he entertained a glowing hope that the ransomers had been idiotic enough to remain in Damen and Laurent’s home, coming face to face with the formidable team of Jord and Nikandros.

“Ah, it sounds like you already--” There was more furious Akielon and Jord was clearly not as calm as he was letting on, “Nikandros, will you  _ shut the fuck up _ ?! You Akielon son of goat-whore, I’m on the phone!” There was more furious Akielon, like arrow darts, and Damen might have laughed under any other circumstances. He knew that Jord and Nik bickered amongst themselves but he had never heard it first-hand. “Gods fucking  _ save _ me, you festering bitch; I know Lyas is your godson but--”

“ _ Jord _ .” Just Laurent saying his name had him back on topic.

“Sorry. Judging by the sound of your voice, seems like you already have some idea of what’s going on.”

“We’ve had a ransom call.” Damen said, hating that Laurent closed his eyes to compose himself. “Maybe three or four minutes before you called.”

“Any demands?”

“Just that they’d call back.” Laurent said calmly. “We have some time.” Ransom calls were rare, but not unheard of in their line of work and there were call tracers in the Shop. Already Damen was moving to put his clothes on, his mind working a thousand miles a minute.

“We’ll stay here to look for anything they might have been dumb enough to leave behind.” Jord replied. “They might come back and we’ll be ready for them.” Nik certainly sounded ready to break kneecaps.

“Keep us updated!” Nik shouted from wherever he was in their home.

“If you need anything we’re here.” Jord agreed. “We’re going to get them back.”

Damen felt every agonizing beat of his heart as the line went dead and his lock screen photo came back into view. Laurent beaming with his cheek pressed into baby Elyas’ auburn curls, the baby’s smile all gums and fat cheeks. Nicaise was pressed into Laurent’s other side, his grin a bit more reserved but still there. They were all looking at Damen with that soft, loving joy and it was one of his favorite, most precious photos.

His beloved family, happy.

And now he was falling apart with thoughts of Nicaise being sold again, his eyes becoming as flat and lifeless as they had been on their first meeting. Elyas growing up like his brother had, the smile slipping with each passing year. 

His heart broke as he saw those exact same thoughts reflected in Laurent’s beautiful, terrified face. Laurent’s face was completely white and his eyes were enormous, scarcely blinking. “ _ Damen _ .” His voice was soft, the tremble almost imperceptible. “Please...”

Damen knew. He knew what Laurent was pleading for. 

_ Please tell me it’s not true. Please tell me they’re safe. Please tell me that they’re home and asleep and happy and safe _ .

That had been his greatest fear. In the dark, quiet moments when he shared all that was in his mind with Damen, Laurent had been--

_ Afraid. So afraid. _

He was afraid that the same sickening, insidious things that had soured him at thirteen would ruin sweet Elyas. That Nicaise would break, forced to go back to that hell he had only narrowly escaped.

Laurent was clearly hanging on to his self-control by a thread, his body shaking as he gripped his own elbows. Many who worked with Laurent thought that he didn’t trifle with useless things like emotions, but Damen knew that he felt things very acutely, that he often did not care for his own physical or mental well-being so long as the people he loved were safe. 

Damen took Laurent’s face tenderly in his hands and felt his mouth moving independently of his mind, which was black with fury. “Laurent, Laurent it’ll be ok. We’re going to get them back. We’re going to hunt these people down and get Elyas and Nicaise back. I swear. They don’t know who they’re fucking with. Laurent, Laurent--”

“I know, I know.” The words came in staccato bursts, as if he had to let his thoughts out before they crumbled to pieces in his throat. “Just let me--” He leaned into Damen and just breathed. Though time was of the essence, Damen let Laurent compose himself. Laurent was chillingly effective but he needed to panic for a moment, so Damen held him. He knew his anger was making him run hot and hoped that it would be some comfort to Laurent. When Laurent could breathe a little easier, he pulled back and looked up at Damen. The intensity on him was deadly, his eyes cold and unforgiving as ice water. “If they hurt our boys, nothing on earth is going to save them from me.”

Damen was of the same mind and he and Laurent helped to temper each other. In this state, there would be no stopping them. “That’s the spirit. Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, they moved quickly through the room to gather up their clothes and prepared to leave. It was not in the plan for the night but...life was never placid being married to Laurent. It would not be the first time he ended a date with a bloodbath. 


	5. 11:00PM Welcome to the Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone!
> 
> Damen and Laurent are in a state and they're headed to their local outpost ;) I'll explain their jobs more in-depth later but for now, you should know that they--and basically everyone they know--works in some capacity for the government of this Akielos/Vere hybrid we've got going on here. Truly Nicaise and Lyas have been adopted into a terrifying family haha!
> 
> Also you can kind of tell that I am an American based on just how easy guns are to get in this fic haha! Giving myself away. And I loved writing feral Erasmus and Kallias in my Berencel fic so much that I thought I'd bring them back for round 2 ;)
> 
> Only 1 more chapter before we loop back to Nicaise and Lyas to see what they've been up to while Laurent and Damen are panicking! I hope you all enjoy!

After hailing a taxi outside the hotel, Laurent and Damen made several calls to the family members who worked with them as they made their way to the Shop.

Their job kept several outfit shops around the city, in case of emergencies such as this, and the closest one happened to be the largest shop though...it always felt like courting danger going into this one. Damen would have picked another shop if they had the luxury of time, but they did not. Every second was precious.

The taxi--which Damen had paid double to double the speed limit--screeched to a halt to the nondescript storefront and Laurent was in front of the door, keying in the code, before Damen was even halfway out of the vehicle. If the door had not been made of solid steel, Laurent might have kicked it open. 

It slid open slowly; a shop built to withstand plastic explosives hurried for no soul. Laurent slid through the opening as soon as it was wide enough to accommodate him, though Damen had to wait longer.

Just as always, Damen was struck by how much it looked like a boutique.

There were racks of nondescript civilian clothes sewn with SpiderSilk--that small caliber bulletproof fabric--as well as thicker tactical garments in shades of black, gray, navy, and olive green. Backpacks, burner phones, rappelling gear, flashlights, and other assorted gear were piled on shelves that lined the walls but the real coup de grace was closer to the ‘checkout’ counter.

Inside the Shop was enough ammunition to overthrow a city. 

Knives and garrottes and crossbows and explosives, vials of poison locked in a steel cabinet, a flamethrower resting in a corner. And guns, endless guns in matte black, loose bullets piled wrist-deep in old filing cabinets. Though it was not as well equipped as the main office, it would get the job done. 

Still in a state, Laurent bypassed the other gear entirely, moving straight for the weaponry. 

“Easy,” Damen cautioned more to himself as he saw smoke rising from the lips of one of the proprietors.

The shop was manned by two slim little things, Erasmus and Kallias, both of whom looked up when Damen and Laurent came close, Kallias stubbing out his cigarette on the bare counter. 

“Welcome to the Shop.”

On a first name basis with most of the people on Damen and Laurent’s team, Erasmus and Kallias had been rescued from a slave ring by Damen’s Uncle Mak a few years before Damen and Laurent joined. Upon turning eighteen, they had returned the favor by taking charge of the Shop. But while their rough upbringing had drilled subservience into Erasmus’ nature, Kallias was quietly dangerous, likely something he had picked up from the Veretians he frequently interacted with; Damen was always sightly worried that the wild thing would take up one of of the sleek pistols at his fingertips and pump him full of lead if Damen so much as misstepped. Laurent had no such fears.

Erasmus bowed low at the waist, giving them a good look at the golden curls on the top of his head, while Kallias inclined his head softly, his watchful eyes never leaving Damen and Laurent. 

Erasmus noticed their consternation first and their fear was mirrored in his sweet freckled face. “Damianos, Laurent! I thought that the both of you were out on leave. Is something the matter?”

Laurent shook his head, still in too much pain to speak so two pairs of eyes--sloe and dark blue--swiveled to Damen next.

Damen’s voice was unsteady, though it seemed to be coming from somewhere outside his body. “There’s an emergency. There’s been a kidnapping,” Erasmus clasped his hands over his heart while Kallias did not even blink, “we need gear while we wait for the others to come.”

Something must have given it away...or Erasmus was just very good at reading people’s emotions, because Erasmus’ eyes were very wide. “Are your boys ok?” He did not know them by name--the Shop boys were not close enough to know Elyas and Nicaise by name--but he knew that they existed. 

Laurent made a soft noise that might have sounded like a quiet clearing of the throat but Damen recognized it as a sound of pain, new waves of hurt coming afresh.  _ They did not know if the boys were ok. Last they had heard, Elyas was crying inconsolably and Nicaise had been screaming for people to let him go, to stop _ . He took a deep breath so that he did not do or say something rash in front of Erasmus and Kallias.

Kallias was quick on noticing pain and even quicker to help escalate the pain to someone else. “What gear do you need?”

“ _ Everything _ .” Damen choked out. Unsure of what and who they were up against, he felt as though he and Laurent did need to ransack the store. 

Kallias nodded sagely. “We’ll get you whatever you want.” Normally there was protocol--paperwork and approval--needed in order to take out whatever was needed from the Shop but clearly Kallias could sense blood and was more than willing to make an exception for this type of emergency. 

“We’ve called Makedon as well.” Laurent added. “He should sign off on anything you’ll need once he gets here.”

Damen let sweet Erasmus assist Laurent; even though Kallias usually had him on edge, he was in such a fugue state that he didn’t mind. As Kallias moved fluidly through the shop, Damen was lost in his own panicked mind. 

He dressed himself in whatever Kallias handed him as he thought back on the first time he’d ever held Elyas. At two days old, Elyas could rest comfortably in one palm of Damen’s hand and Damen could feel the hummingbird beat of his little heart through the back of his onesie. Baby Elyas had snuggled up into the warmth of Damen’s hand and it had been immediate love. 

Then he thought of Nicaise and what hell that first year had been; when the boy had spit venom and purposefully caused chaos, his aqua eyes feral with hurt and fury. Only Laurent’s extraordinary levels of spite and understanding and Damen’s stubbornness kept them from giving up entirely. The first time Nicaise laughed--after Damen had stubbed his bare toe on a wrought iron table leg--it seemed to take him by surprise, as if he had forgotten that he knew how to laugh. It was beautiful and Laurent had smiled knowing that they cracked that hard shell for the first time. 

Nicaise had been the first to make Elyas laugh, blowing raspberries against the palms of Elyas’ hands until the baby’s breath was hitching from laughing so hard. They both liked when Damen errantly played with their curls and Nicaise now came to Laurent in the evenings when he had nightmares, looking small and all of fourteen when he stood terrified in their doorway. 

Nicaise had been excited to start attending school full time. They were going to take Elyas to the beach once he learned how to toddle. If Nicaise felt up to it, they had plans to visit Laurent’s childhood home in Arles in the winter when it snowed or Damen’s family homes in Ios and Lentos. Elyas was going to crawl soon. 

So many little, cherished things that were in jeopardy…

The only thing Damen did notice throughout the entire time he was suiting up was that Laurent did not set his phone down even once. He gripped it for how precious it was: potentially their only lifeline left to Elyas and Nicaise.

“This enough, you think?” Kallias’ clear voice was like a bucket of ice water on Damen’s thoughts and he focused on the task at hand.

Kallias had had fun with this request. Damen had been given an assault rifle to strap across his back, two high-caliber pistols for his flank, two low-caliber pistols for his hips, and three knives of varying sizes. 

“I--”

He was interrupted when their assistance arrived all at the same time, clearly having dropped whatever they were doing to come help. 

Jokaste, Damen’s sister-in-law and Nicaise and Elyas’ beloved aunt, breezed in first in a full length black evening gown and a ruby choker, her expression cold and determined. Then came Laurent’s mother, clearly having been roused from bed as she was in her satin pajama set and reading glasses, a glass of white wine in her hand. Even in her pajamas, she was an intimidating and gorgeous woman: tall, sleek, and supremely confident; her blue eyes had the same icy self-assurance as her younger son.

The men followed them in. Damen’s ‘uncle’ Makedon had been holding the door open, dressed as he always did when he worked during a long shift, with his dark sleeves rolled up over his massive forearms to display his tattoos. Uncle Mak waited until Auguste, the last of their reinforcements, entered before allowing the door to slide shut behind them.

With just those four, Damen and Laurent had the assistant director of communications, the director of the technology department, the head director of the hunter division--of which Damen, Laurent, Nik, and Jord were a part of--and the director of the Veretian Treasury ready to help. It was formidable backup.

Damen and Laurent both moved to meet the group, Damen keeping a steadying hand on Laurent’s lower back as Laurent embraced his mother and brother. Jokaste held Hennike’s wine glass as she tried to soothe her son.

“Laurent, fairest,” In happier times, Auguste often liked to joke that--according to his mother--he was the ‘ugly’ one in the family, based on Laurent’s nickname, “tell us what happened.” He and Damen had only given the most important details on the phone in order to save time and it was heartbreaking to hear the absolute monotone way that Laurent regaled them with the phone call they’d received earlier in the evening.

Damen was shaking by the end of Laurent’s explanation and Nicaise’s screams echoed in his ears.

“Did they ask for anything?” Auguste asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Money? Drugs? People? A meetup location?” It was usually the case with ransom requests and, as the director of the Veretian Treasury, Auguste was used to all sorts of wild requests coming across his desk.

“Nothing yet.” Damen said. “As Laurent said, they didn’t identify themselves and said that they’d call back.”

“Professionals?” Makedon asked, eyes flinty.

“Not sure.” Laurent’s eyes were wide. “They certainly weren’t eloquent but they knew who I was. Knew me by name.”

“You certainly have an extensive list of enemies,” Jokaste said as she unpinned her hair, “especially since you both are so damn good at your jobs. I know you all work on other cases occasionally but, if it’s a professional I’d stake money that it’s one of those slave rings you’ve busted.”

Damen exhaled sharply and cupped Laurent’s waist to keep him steady.

He prayed that it was not a slave ring. He begged any gods listening that Nicaise, beautiful, feisty Nicaise, had not fallen into the hands of more slavers. They would surely notice his beauty and appraise him accordingly. He did not like to think of cruel strangers putting their hands on Nicaise. 

Laurent was trembling lightly under Damen’s fingertips, the expression in his eyes flickering between anger and terror. 

“If so, we need to be armed to the teeth.” Makedon said errantly and began moving towards the counter where Erasmus, Kallias, and a pile of weapons were waiting. “If it’s an organization then they’ll be more dangerous than opportunistic kidnappers and...I doubt they’d want money if so.”

“We need to determine if the boys are still a--safe.” Auguste amended before he accidentally insinuated that Elyas and Nicaise might not be alive. Even so, Damen saw Laurent get paler. “Otherwise they could be setting up a trap or a scam of some sort.”

Laurent did not look back at his brother as he loaded a rifle with chilling efficiency. “If anyone hurts my boys, I will tender my resignation--effective immediately--so that I can hunt these men down and murder them.” It seemed like a perfectly reasonable response to Damen.

In their line of work they tried to mitigate casualties as much as possible.

Even the foulest of the men they hunted they tried to bring in alive. Their teams wanted to see the monstrous men face justice and rot in the bowels of Vaskian-run prisons; murdering on purpose was generally grounds for probation, if not dismissal. But if Damen and Laurent quit, then they could murder with impunity and not have any concern over workplace repercussions. 

Normally this would be cause for concern but their audience did not seem to mind; in fact they seemed rather pleased.

Hennike and Auguste were nodding as if it was to be expected, while Jokaste shrugged, beyond caring. Makedon tugged softly at his beard, looking at Laurent while he murmured, “Do what you have to do.” For Elyas and Nicaise, they seemed perfectly content with murder. 

“My fairest,” Hennike moved to sweep the hair from Laurent’s face and stroke his cheek, “we’ll do all we can, all our resources are at your disposal. Just tell us what you need. Jo, darling, are you free to stay the rest of the evening?”

Jokaste grinned. “Yes.  _ Anything _ for my beloved nephews, also it’s a great excuse to get me out of another dinner and cocktail event. Kas can handle one night alone.” Damen knew that although she was good with talking to people, charming and manipulating them to further Kastor’s career, her true passion was for the dark and dirty world of their communications department, where she could be as openly underhanded as she liked. “I’ll assemble the troops.”

“May I have the phone they’ve contacted?” Hennike asked, holding out one beautifully manicured hand. Laurent handed over his phone and watched closely as she examined the number and nodded to herself. “I’m sure there’s a team in a mobile unit nearby and we can try to trace the next call that comes in.”

“I’ll come with you.” Jokaste said. “If these bastards call back, I’d like to be the one on the other end of the line. I’ll get a location out of them if it’s the last goddamn thing I do.”

Damen believed her. 

While Laurent’s expert mouth could reduce the hardiest of men to cowering, tearful shame, Jokaste relished talking people into or out of things. Damen swore that--given enough time--his sister-in-law could convince a man to give her a gun and then thank her before she shot him in the head.

Hennike beamed at her, “Darling Jo, my foolish older son should have courted and married you when he had the chance,” Auguste groaned, in spite of the circumstances, over how much his mother adored Jokaste and her kindred whip-quick mind, “instead of letting you fall for that classless Akielon career politician.” Jokaste smiled brightly as Hennike reverted to Veretian, Artesian being inadequate to properly express the full gamut of her dismay, “ _ Such _ a waste.” 

“Take mine too.” Damen called, tossing his phone to Laurent. “Run back our home security feed and see if anything is on there.”

Content to leave the four blondes to their own devices, Makedon came to Damen and smiled wryly over the one-man armory that Kallias had laid out for him. “You holding up? Have to stay calm to keep from making mistakes, even if it is personal.”

Makedon spoke from experience. His brother had died on a raid when Makedon was Damen’s age, so he knew the dangers of making things personal.

Damen knew his stare was answer enough. 

Makedon nodded; he’d seen enough of Damen, Kastor, and their father’s temperament in the field to know when a dead-eyed stare could easily flip into blackout rage. Damen was teetering on the very fucking edge, holding everything back until he actually saw one of the people responsible.

“I assume Jord and Nik are--”

“At the house,” Damen nodded. “They’ll let us know if they find anything or see people come back. Who else do you think we can rally?”

“Anyone you like, even the Vaskians,” Makedon said, clapping Damen firmly on the shoulder as a sign of comfort. “I’ll call anyone you need for the sake of my delightful godson.” Unafraid of the boy’s fire, Makedon had been delighted to take the role of Nicaise’s Akielon godfather. Nicaise tolerated him because, even though Makedon was loud and enormous, he was unfazed by Nicaise’s filthy mouth and had promised to teach the boy how to ‘fight properly once he got a little bit heavier than an olive sapling’. “You and Laurent get armed and I’ll have the hunters' mobile units ready in the next thirty minutes.”

Thirty minutes was still too long for his liking, especially when the abductors had such a massive head start, but Damen knew that everyone was doing all that they could. “Thanks, Uncle Mak.”

They had access to the highest tech, all government agents, and the largest fund in the city. With such powerful, intelligent people surrounding him, Damen felt a brief moment of relief and hope. Then he saw Laurent flanked by his mother and brother--the two people he trusted with his emotions as much as Damen--and he looked quietly devastated before he pressed his hands over his face to hide it. Then the fury was back in force.

“Anything else you want?” Kallias had never taken his ultramarine eyes off of Damen, his hand dangerously close to one of the knives he’d laid out for Damen, the blade at least 12 inches long.

“Can I take this?” Damen asked, looking at an axe that Kallias kept sharpened and silver behind the desk.

Kallias looked delighted, even though Damen had a feeling that Kallias knew he wasn’t planning to use it to chop through locked doors. “Of  _ course _ .” His dark blue eyes were bright. “Clean it off before you bring it back, yeah?”

“Clean it off?”

Kallias leaned his slim elbows on the counter and Damen could not get the axe out of his slim hands fast enough. “People who put their hands on children should have them cut off, don’t you think?”


	6. 12:00AM I Know a Guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! We are on the last chapter of Damen and Laurent's POV and WHAT a way to end things haha! No action media is complete without a car chase ;) Also featured in today's chapter: an absolutely murderous Laurent, more tiny snippets of life with Nicaise and Elyas, Jord and Nik bickering, and a new friend joining the party. Tbh after Cherry Wine, 'Nidya' is my favorite nickname for Nikandros, but 'Little Nika' is a VERY close second.
> 
> Finally for the small cluster of people reading this, I am going to be away all of next week so the next update won't be until December 3rd. As a bit of good news though, chapter 7 is the first of Nicaise's POV and we're winding back the clock to 6PM!
> 
> Enjoy~

Uncle Mak was as good as his word and two fully outfitted mobile units screeched up to the curb outside the Shop only twenty minutes after Damen and Laurent had finished suiting up. They were sturdy things, deceptively fast, and filled with enough tech that the comms team could trace calls as they drove. 

Erasmus saw them out, his hands clasped over his heart. “Please come back if you need anything. We’ll keep the channels open to listen for news.” Sweet as he was, he was not brave enough to lean forward and kiss Laurent’s cheeks, instead choosing to squeeze Laurent’s hands. “I’m sure you’ll find them.”

“Thank you.” Laurent murmured. There seemed to be no real feeling behind it. As soon as Erasmus was out of earshot, Laurent spoke his true feelings to Damen. “They’re going to breathe  _ blood _ when I’m through with them.”

“That’s the spirit.” Damen said. “I’ll be the last to stop you.”

It reminded him of earlier in the night--ages ago--when Laurent had told him the same thing, when he had been about to message Nicaise but stopped because…His terrible decision hit him in the heart and the pain crippled him. He crushed his palms into his eyes and let regret wash over him. 

“ _ Damen _ .”

“I should have listened to you.” He whispered as he leaned into Laurent’s cool touch. “If I had only contacted them. If only I had let you--” Nicaise had seemed so ready, so confident to be on his own, but it only hit Damen now, too late, how very young and fragile Nicaise could be. “ _ Gods _ …”

Laurent did not say anything, the two of them resting against each other for a moment. Damen fought back his guilt and regret; he could bottle it up for later but now...he had to be strong. 

Laurent was still murderous, softly so. “No. Even if we had...the results are the same.” His Veretian was low and lovely. “Those bastards made Elyas cry. They put their hands on  _ Nicaise _ . So I want them to  _ burn _ . I want their throats between my fucking teeth.”

Damen breathed a little easier, feeling the same. 

He also wanted hearts crushed in his palms and to see Laurent, as feral as he had been as a teenager, blood dripping down his chin. This violence gave them the strength to get into the mobile unit with the others.

“Where to, boss?” Their driver, Orlant, called from the driver’s seat. 

“I think it would be best to go back to the house.” Damen offered. “If they’ve left anything behind there, that’s our best lead.”

“Nothing on the security cams,” Jokaste said to Laurent as she hooked his phone up to one of the computers inside. She and Hennike had traded in their clothes for boots, trousers, and long-sleeved, long-necked shirts all in black so that they looked more like a mother and daughter pair rather than coworkers. “I imagine they either cut the power or had some kind of pulse device to knock it out long enough to get in and grab the kids.”

“The more I hear, the more I’m convinced that these are not amateurs.” Laurent said. “A pulse is expensive stuff.” They had seen it used to devastation before. There was that school in Fortaine that had had a pulse used against it, eleven junior school students and a lovely young teacher’s aide taken before anyone had figured out what was going on. Nasty little things, pulses were. “That way they could guarantee the security and the cameras were completely disabled.”

Damen gritted his teeth.

Nicaise was afraid of the dark, despite his assertions to the contrary.

It unsettled him and Damen knew that the moment the lights had gone off that Nicaise would have clutched Elyas close to protect the baby, his heart speeding and eyes wide. Strange people coming for him would only make the fear worse. If Damen got his hands on them, they were going to wish they had never even  _ looked _ at Nicaise. 

Quite unthinkingly, he ran his thumb up and down the handle of Kallias’ axe.

The mobile units were only about ten minutes away from the Shop when Damen’s phone began to buzz on the metal computer desk that had been bolted into the walls. Everyone flinched, as if the buzz was an electric shock that rippled through the metal van. Jokaste nearly answered on instinct but her training took hold and she cradled the phone in shaking hands.

Damen remembered how she had held Elyas for the first time, humming to him softly as she rocked him back and forth. 

“Is it the unknown number?” Damen asked, lurching forward. Laurent’s hand squeezed his fingers so hard that Damen felt the bones of his hand grinding together.

“It’s Little Nika.” Jokaste corrected before the men could rush over and shift the van on its axle. She waited for Hennike to give her the go ahead to answer and immediately winced. “And I’m going to  _ kill _ him.”

They could hear Nikandros shouting through Jokaste’s headphones, clearly in a state, and Jokaste grimaced as she pressed the speaker button.

It was almost as if Nikandros was in the van with them.

“Hello? _ Hello? _ Jord, you may not know this but the gas pedal is the one on the right” Jord must have said something smart in response because Nikandros held off on explaining in order to further insult his partner, “ _ fuck’s sake _ , my deceased yiayia is moving faster than we are. Anyone there?”

“Everyone’s here, minus my fucking eardrums.” Jokaste spat back. “What the hell is going on, Nika?”

There was the sound of tires squealing in the background and Laurent was on his feet, his expression dark. Damen held himself very still, lest he tip the van in his haste to move. Nik swore colorfully in Akielon before he composed himself enough to answer Jokaste.

“Got a couple more hunters who came to the house and we noticed a suspicious car idling outside. Went down to take a look and--” Nikandros invoked the names of several gods as they heard Jord curse, “they made a run for it. We’re still in pursuit but-- _ fuck me _ !--they’re  _ fast _ and Jord’s driving leaves much to be desired.” It certainly didn’t sound that way to Damen but he was hardly in a position to be making rational judgments.

“I wish you’d shut the hell up!” Jord sounded like he was speaking through gnashing teeth.

“I wish you’d go faster!”

“I wish you both would fucking  _ focus _ .” Laurent hissed, his shoulders coiled so tight that Damen briefly wondered if he was planning to shatter the phone. “Did you see Nicaise or Elyas?”

“Can’t be sure,” Nikandros said. “Looked like there were three people in the car but it was dark and I couldn’t make out their features. I’ll try to send you the plate number if Jord will get us a little bit closer.” Rising to the bait, they heard the roar of the engine in the background as Jord put pedal to the metal.

“We have to have  _ something _ to work with.” Hennike said calmly, though she did chew on one thumbnail as she kept her gaze locked on the phone.

“Where are you?” Damen asked as he gripped the metal of the computer frame. He feared that if he held onto someone, then he would crack their bones. “Can you give us that at least?”

“Hang on,” everyone seemingly held their breath as they waited for Nikandros and Jord to fly past a visible street sign, “Fourth Arrondissement, Sécurité District, just passed Symmachos Street. We’re driving north but we might not be for  _ long _ \--gods, this person changes directions like a  _ madman _ ! He’s up on the sidewalk now, Jord!”

“I can fucking see!” Jord snarled in the background.

“Could have fooled me.”

Auguste had already rushed forward to give the driver of their unit instructions. “Think we can keep up in this tank?” 

“We’ll have to cut them off.” Makedon was clearly plotting the route in his mind, his dark eyes narrowed. Damen glanced to the ceiling where straps were hanging down to hold onto in just such an emergency. He prepared himself to brace, shielding Laurent so that he did not bounce around the back of the unit.

“Just ram into them and call it a day.” Auguste offered, with the careless ease of man who could crash a car and buy a new one the same day.

“If Nicaise and Elyas are inside?” Laurent’s voice was anguished as he glared at his brother. Damen felt the potential of it like a kick in the lungs.  _ Nicaise, only fourteen, draped over crushed metal, with droplets of blood spattering from the tips of his curls, tiny Elyas silent and breathless and-- _

Damen had never experienced such a feeling before. It felt like death and torture and heartbreak and nausea.

Auguste paled, clearly not having considered that option for his nephews. He reached over pat his brother’s cheek. “No, you’re right, Laurent. We can’t take that risk. We’ll have to find some other way.”

“Try to set up a blockade maybe?” Makedon offered, “We could tell the other unit to split up…”

“Can you keep giving us your location as you change direction?” Hennike asked, leaning close to the phone. “If we get a general idea of direction, we can split up and get onto the outer belt of the city, try to get ahead of them. Nika, can you and Jord try to get us as much information on the car as you can? Make, model, color, plates?”

There was some muffled arguing from over the line and Hennike clenched her jaw in quiet annoyance, an expression that Damen had thought was unique to Laurent up until this exact moment. He heard Makedon instructing the other unit to take the south ramp onto the highway that encircled the city; everything felt as though it was taking far too long, like their progress was hindered by time itself.

“Jord is going to get as much as he can from the car; he’ll shout it out. I’ll keep you updated on street signs as I--fuck! As I see them.” 

Auguste took up a handful of colored magnets and went to the enormous map of the city that had been pinned to the bare left wall of the mobile unit. He began placing and moving the magnets as Nikandros called out street signs over the tinny cellular microphone. Makedon had moved to join Auguste, Damen, and Laurent so that they could try to guess the best exit to take to cut off the chase.

The unit was just pulling onto the north-bound ramp when a harsh noise cut through the line and reverberated against the metal walls.

There was the sound of tires squealing from high to low pitch, as if someone was trying to wrest control of a spinning vehicle and Nikandros swore loudly before there was the delicate noise of shattering glass and then horrible silence. 

Laurent and his family were stark white, held so tight and still that they might have been carved of stone, and Jokaste did not blink for an age.

“N-Nika?”

Thankfully there was a response. “We lost them…” Nikandros gasped like he had just dodged death itself. “We fucking lost them.”

Hennike inhaled in a short gasp of pain and Jokaste closed her eyes, her jaw clenched. Damen thought Laurent was going to be ill; hell, Damen felt like vomiting onto the metal floors. Everyone remained silent for a long moment, hoping that Jord or Nikandros would break the silence with better news. 

“They’re definitely professionals.” Jord said, crushing that hope. “We got half a plate and the make and model. Think we can do anything with that?”

Everyone looked to Hennike, who had swallowed her pain for grim determination. “It will take longer to search but we can do it. In the meantime I suggest we stay where we are so we’re not wasting energy, driving through the city.” Damen wanted to walk the city if there was any chance it would find his boys faster but he understood her logic; Akielons charged forward with all their strength, Veretians preferred to lie in wait while setting elaborate traps.

And he was not thinking straight. 

Laurent was far away, his eyes unfocused and body tense as Damen drew him close. There had always been the fear of having their own family--  _ what if they fucked the kids up on accident, what if Laurent and Damen couldn’t protect them, what if they were beloved and precious and a clear weakness _ \--there were so many variables that Laurent could not control and it had terrified him. He loved Elyas and Nicaise, cared for them so deeply that it was terrifying. 

“I know...I know.” He murmured beneath his breath. “There’s still time.” 

Laurent leaned into him, clearly counting his breaths so he could stay in the moment. His gaze was hard and hunted as Makedon approached them and Damen braced himself for Laurent’s infamous mouth. There was no telling what kind of venom he would unleash when things were this out of control.

“Makedon.”

“Laurent,” Makedon paused at a few feet away, his years of experience in the field helping him to sense the innate danger even though Laurent was shorter and slimmer than he was, “I know a guy who can help. He comes in for me sometimes for absolute emergencies; a kind of secret weapon, if you will.” Makedon pulled out the flip phone Damen swore he had purchased the same year Kastor was born. “He’s Akielon and wicked fast behind the wheel. If anyone can run down these professionals when they reappear, it will be him.”

“Would you stake your life on that?” Laurent asked as his fists clenched.

Damen had heard the statement before and knew Laurent’s true meaning behind the words. He had once told Laurent--when they were young, dumb teenagers--that he would do anything for Laurent. Laurent had smirked and his blue eyes glowed above the coals of his smoldering cigarette and he’d asked Damen if he would bet his life on that. 

Laurent would; he did nothing by half. When Laurent said he would stake his life on something, by the gods he would do it. That intensity had both frightened and aroused Damen when he was younger but he was nothing if not stubborn. He would follow Laurent through hell if that was what his husband wanted. 

Makedon looked down at Laurent, his expression tender and understanding. Damen knew that the man was not the type to make false promises. “I would. I would stake my life that this man can help us.”

Laurent looked for a lie in Makedon’s eyes and nodded. When Damen touched Laurent’s slim waist, he felt Laurent lean back into the touch, his whole body shaking like a leaf.

Pallas was his name and, though Makedon had to try several numbers to reach him, he arrived maybe fifteen minutes later with his eyes crackling black sparks from adrenaline. Damen errantly wondered how many speed limits he had broken on his way over. Like most Akielons they worked with, Pallas was built sturdy; he was around Laurent’s height but muscled like a young bull, black curls rippling like ink down past his ribcage. He had a sweet face as well, his smile wide as he saw everyone waiting for him. 

“Gang’s all here, huh?”

“Pallas, what took you so long?” Makedon got up from where he was sitting to clap Pallas on the shoulder and nearly banged his head on the low ceiling of the mobile unit. 

“It’s been a night.” Pallas shook out his hair and Damen swore he saw glitter coming from the curls. “I had a shift at the club and then my boyfriend asked me for a ride into the city. It’s a good thing I slept all day. These them?”

“Ah, yes.” Makedon turned for introductions and Damen remained seated; he had since learned his lesson with the mobile unit ceilings. “This is my nephew, Damianos, and his husband, Laurent. They work with me and had someone break into their house while they were out. Then the bold bastards came back for recon. Lost some of our boys in the ensuing chase.”

Pallas was now abreast of Damen and Laurent and inclined his head to the both of them. His smile was the brightest and most optimistic they had seen since checking into the hotel hours before. “Well let’s hope they come back then, yeah? I’ll chase them down before they shift to second gear. So...you mind telling me what these guys did? Or is it top secret stuff?”

Technically as an ‘independent contractor’ of sorts, Pallas did not need to be privy to every aspect of the situation and Damen found that he was tired of reliving it. But it was important that this driver knew the stakes and had some idea of what type of men they were dealing with. Laurent looked as if speech was beyond his capabilities at the moment--a thing Damen did not think was physically possible--and seemed content to sit with his own thoughts.

It had been awhile since Damen had seen Laurent so deep in dark thoughts, his memories beyond the range of Damen’s fists and fury. Speaking about it often helped him untangle the pain but...it was hard when he was staying silent.

Damen held his husband closer, stroking one hand up and down the back of Laurent’s neck as he gave Pallas the bare-bones rundown of the evening’s events. Pallas’ eyes grew appropriately wide as he heard about the ransom call and Damen faltered a bit when he told of how close Nik and Jord had come to actually catching one of the people responsible, a small bit of hope slipping from his heart like someone had hammered a nail in his chest.

“Now we have to track them down before something happens to our two kids.”  _ Something _ . _ Something like _ ...

“Two  _ kids _ ?” Pallas said, his eyes widening with shock.

“Yes. A baby and a young teenager.” Laurent said in a tone that was terrifyingly calm, his words almost coming out Veretian for a moment. “Auguste will have a picture on his phone,” Auguste handed his phone dutifully the moment Laurent extended his hand, “Their names are Elyas and Nicaise.”

Damen’s careful veneer of professionalism cracked a little as he caught a glimpse of the screen.

The photo Auguste had chosen had been taken only a week before, when they had visited his sprawling estate just outside the city. Nicaise was a little skittish around Auguste’s placid horses but Elyas had cooed at the beasts, clearly curious, so Nicaise had held the baby up to the horse’s velvety snout. Auguste had called out to them both and snapped the picture. Nicaise refused to smile but the happiness was there in his eyes and Elyas was looking back at him, wondering perhaps if his beloved Nicaise saw the horse.

Pallas was looking at the image, his expression pained. “Oh my gods…”


	7. 6:00PM Hello, Pretty Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> I hope you missed me (and the story) and I've come with Nicaise's POV of the night's events. He just wanted to babysit his brother, dammit and the universe just won't let him have it... Writing him can be a little contradicting at times because he wavers between wanting to be adultlike and independent but he's also just a kid and he's petty as hell. It's been interesting to write him. 
> 
> Also Laurent is 100% that perfect, extra, hands-on parent that he probably cloth diapers and makes his own homemade baby food and has read every parenting book in existence. No wonder Nicaise is stifled haha!
> 
> Enjoy!

Nicaise breathed a sigh of relief the moment that Damen and Laurent were out of the door and well on their way to their date.

Then elation took hold in his thin chest and did a few whirling sort of pirouettes while Elyas’ reddish brown curls rustled under his chin. They were both laughing as Nicaise came to a halt just outside the entryway. Though this drop of freedom was smaller than what he had experienced a few years before, it was no less blissful and he relished the rare feeling of it.

The house was all his for the night.

This beautiful house in an affluent district in the outer ring of Marlas City might as well have been heaven the first time he’d seen it. The place glowed like candles set behind honey. The opulence of it was beyond his wildest dreams: a kitchen as clean and bright as new bedsheets, a massive living room crowned with a fireplace out of a fairy tale, a room just for books with shelves to the ceiling, bathrooms that smelled of lavender and cherry blossom rather than shit and black mold. There was even a bedroom that he had completely for himself with a solid lock on the door.

Nicaise could list on one hand the things he would admit aloud that he loved and the house was one of them. 

In the three years since he had come to live with Damen and Laurent, he had known a sense of peace unlike any he had ever experienced before in his short life. But the trade-off was dire.

They were overprotective.

Damen was terrifyingly big and tall, protective by nature, but he was easing up a little. Even so, there were still times when he looked at Nicaise with wariness or pity, like he would with some fragile little creature that had just been snatched from the jaws of death. Nicaise hated those looks and the way Damen was so goddamn careful; the freedom he did give then seemed forced, like he was giving just a taste of freedom and responsibility out of a sense of obligation rather than genuine trust. 

It made Nicaise want to grind his heel into Damen’s little toe.

Laurent was worse but in an entirely different way. He was beautiful and clever and unfazed by any foul thing that Nicaise would say--Nicaise remembered the first time he had seen Laurent, cool and gorgeous and dressed in all black, and spat out that if he ‘ever decided to suck cock for a living, you’d make a fucking fortune’. Laurent had raised one eyebrow, setting the tone for the relationship. He  _ knew _ , somehow he fucking understood and it drove Nicaise mad. 

Laurent pushed ‘ _ healthy coping mechanisms _ ’ and ‘ _ therapy _ ’, he had won the game before Nicaise even realized they were playing, and he was absolutely unflappable. Sometimes Nicaise wanted Laurent to cringe at his words or flinch in disgust when he talked about his past. He wanted Laurent to act like Damen did, even though Nicaise  _ hated _ those same reactions from Damen. 

It was exhausting being around the both of them, wanting to lash out and clam up all at once. He craved independence after never tasting it before.

And now, after weeks of begging, he had it  _ and _ was getting paid for it.

“What should we do Lyas? Do you want to stay up past bedtime? Play video games? Order like ten platters of sushi? Want me to pierce your ears so we can match?” Lyas seemed delighted by all his suggestions but it was likely due to the fact that he loved Nicaise. “We can’t do any of that, huh? We can’t because you’re a stinky little baby!”

Lyas laughed, happy to be a stinky little baby, and Nicaise grinned at the sound of the laugh; it was one of his favorite noises. 

He had a foolproof way to hear it over and over.

Setting Lyas up on the couch amongst his toys, Nicaise played peek-a-boo until Lyas was breathless from laughter and his phone buzzed with an incoming message. At first he thought it was one of the boys he had ‘grown up’ with. They frequently texted him to check in, the lot of them bound together by shared darkness that no other boys around them seemed to understand.

Nicaise hissed in irritation as he saw the name on his cellphone screen. By his estimation, Laurent and Damen would have only  _ just _ gotten into the downtown city limits and already Laurent was texting him for updates. Lyas watched him pace, chewing on the paw of a stuffed sloth as Nicaise vented. 

“ _ Fuckers _ ! I  _ told _ Damen not to let that blond bitch jump down my throat every goddamn second but--ha!--it’s hard to compete when Laurent is probably sucking his dick under the dinner table as we speak! No, can’t trust Nicaise. Nicaise is fourteen but still too,”  _ young, sweet, helpless _ , he choked with disgust, “unreliable. Nope gotta leave him with a phonebook and text him every goddamn fucking half an hour and--”

One thing that did bring him up short were the cameras. He  _ hated _ being filmed, hated seeing that glassy eye and laser-red dot trained on him, hated not knowing who would see him in his vulnerable state.

Laurent had, surprisingly, seemed reluctant to put in a camera as well but Damen, that back-stabbing bastard, had talked him into it.

“Oh  _ love _ ,” Nicaise put on his best Damen impersonation, “it will be so much safer if we have at least one; not in the  _ bedrooms  _ but maybe one in the living room so that we can fucking watch Nicaise like a goddamn hawk” his imitation slipped slightly in the face of his supreme irritation, “and make sure that our precious baby isn’t...isn’t…”

For a moment he wanted to be mad at Lyas, jealous how he would grow up to fourteen without even a fraction of what Nicaise had gone through before he turned ten. But Lyas smiled up at him with pure, happy love that only an innocent baby could manage and the anger went out of him in a sigh. He collapsed face-first on the couch cushion next to Lyas and felt a tiny palm slapping his curls. 

Slowly Nicaise turned his head so he could blow a raspberry against Lyas’ palm and the damp sloth paw fell from the baby’s mouth as he laughed. 

“I’m not mad.” Nicaise bumped his head against Lyas’ soft belly. It was natural that they’d worry more about Lyas--he was a tiny  _ baby _ for fuck’s sake--and honestly, it was natural that they’d love him more too. Lyas was sweet, innocent, bubbly, and happy; no one who spent any amount of time with Nicaise would jump at the chance to call him loveable. He was not jealous of Lyas so much as he was of his own lost potential. “I’m not…”

Lyas gurgled at his dismay and Nicaise felt a tiny face bury itself in his hair, Lyas’ hands ruthlessly gripping his ears for support. Nicaise bumped the chubby belly pressed against his head and he heard Lyas giggle as he tumbled backwards on the couch cushion and his small pile of stuffed creatures.

“Ah, fuck it! And fuck them. I’ll just go without a phone tonight.” 

He sent a terse, annoyed reply, hoping it would be the last one of the evening before setting his plan in motion. 

Scooping Lyas up in one arm and his phone in his free hand, Nicaise trotted upstairs to his room and threw his phone onto the dark shape of his bed. If Laurent and Damen bitched at him later about not responding to texts and calls, he could always claim that he had forgotten his phone in his room and therefore could not respond.

He sighed once the door was shut and Lyas bounced in his arms, as always, delighted by Nicaise’s outbursts.

“There’s a reason you’re my favorite in this family.  _ You  _ don’t text me every second.” Even if he could, Nicaise felt that he wouldn’t mind quite so much. “Should we go for a walk then?” Nicaise asked as he bounced Lyas up and down to make him smile. “Should we?”

Nicaise slid on his shoes and then held Lyas by the hands, dangling him down so that his tiny feet stamped the ground in an approximation of walking. He babbled in determination as Nicaise walked him toward the door of their back garden. He would never dare take Lyas outside the borders of their home without Damen or Laurent with him, but the spacious backyard with its high fence and familiar, unthreatening foliage was safe enough. He also liked to see Lyas screech in dismay when his feet were put on the grass; the baby’s general consensus was that grass was wildly unpleasant and he did all he could to stomp it down. 

Nicaise liked the garden.

He could never have imagined as a kid that people had gardens at their home, gardens some people cared for more than others cared for their children. In his first spring and summer at the house, Nicaise would often hide out in the backyard; there was a premium hiding spot behind Laurent’s prized rose bushes, pleasantly shaded, that a full grown man could not get to unless he intended to tear out the bushes by the roots. A following obstacle would be Laurent coming to tear off the offenders balls afterwards.

“Someday I’ll show you,” he promised Lyas, keeping him far from the sharp thorns of the roses, “I mean, fuck, by the time you’re big enough to hide back there on your own, I’ll probably be too tall to fit.” Lyas screeched, too busy kicking at blades of grass to consider the future. “Hopefully I…”

Hopefully he was still allowed in the house at that time. Hopefully he had not pushed his luck too far…

Lyas’ screeches took on the tone of actual irritation and upset so Nicaise hoisted him up away from the grass. He pushed his melancholy thoughts away in favor of allowing Lyas to yank the petals off of irises in Laurent’s flower bed and watching the sky turn that pretty shade of orangey pink that Nicaise liked until it was time for Lyas’ dinner. 

Even though Damen hated it, Nicaise kept his shoes on when he came back into the house. Something about Akielon culture found anything except slippers or bare feet in the home to be utterly reprehensible and he had made a grave tactical error in telling Nicaise.

He wore his shoes indoors as often as he could get away with it. 

Lyas snuggled up to him as he danced through the kitchen and began to list all the things that the both of them could eat until they were sick. Nicaise would have liked to learn to cook intricate meals but Damen seemed oddly skittish about allowing Nicaise free reign of the knives in the butcher block; surely the fact that Nicaise had once joked about not stabbing Damen ‘that hard’ hadn’t helped matters.

“If only you had teeth Lyas!” Nicaise grumbled in faux annoyance. “We could have pancakes or ice cream cones or croissants with butter, but no! You get to enjoy,” he had to pause to read Laurent’s posh, loopy handwriting on the glass jar, “pureed pear, apple, and zucchini. Gross food for a gross baby!” 

Lyas was the one family member who appreciated his sarcasm and babbled in excitement as Nicaise strapped him into his high chair. He opened his mouth helpfully as Nicaise popped the lid off of the homemade beige paste and brought out the baby spoon he had shoplifted for Lyas.

When he was alone with Lyas or was very certain that no one could hear him, Nicaise liked to chant some of the sweet, encouraging things he wished he had been told when he was young and…

_...hurt and scared _ . 

“You’re so good at this!” He praised easily as he expertly scraped the plastic spoon against the rim of Lyas’ gums so that the spoon would emerge clean, “That’s good stuff, huh? You’re going to be so healthy and--”  _ not big, not strong _ ; those attributes unnerved him and he often had the irrational childish hope that Lyas would stay small and sweet forever, “annoying to Damen. But for that, you have to eat this...this absolute shit.” Lyas smacked his hands against the wood of the tray and smiled at Nicaise’s attention. “You’re a sweet sunny boy Lyas, my little Lyas.” And then, most hesitantly of all, “I love you.”

Lyas was delighted by his confession and babbled in a series of noises that only a baby could truly comprehend. 

But Nicaise understood in a way. All the kids he had ever known were gaunt and hollow and hard, like shattered porcelain and would not think of making noise unless it was absolutely necessary. Lyas was easy and happy, filled with light and love. He babbled back because he loved Nicaise too.

After Lyas had eaten his fill, Nicaise changed his diaper and then took him over to the living room to rock him a little. Lyas usually began to mellow closer to seven in preparation to sleep, snuggling up to whoever was holding him and making small humming noises under his breath. Laurent usually paced with Lyas in his arms while Damen just rocked his whole body back and forth, Lyas snug beneath one of his massive pectorals.

Nicaise preferred to sit on the couch and let Lyas get comfortable on his own all while Nicaise talked shit. He had some soft music on and the current topic of complaint was the fear that Laurent was going to have Nikandros or Jord come over to check up on him if he didn’t text or call.

“I’ll message him after I put you to bed, yeah? Sound good?” Lyas responded by burying his face in Nicaise’s shirt. Nicaise patted his back. “Ok yeah, that asshole can wait another hour or so…”

The lights flickered for a moment and Nicaise inhaled sharply.

He hated when the lights were out and people could creep in out of the darkness with their wandering hands and hungry eyes and cameras, their terrifying cameras. His first time on an honest-to-god public vacation, Damen and Laurent had taken him to an aquarium and he had loved the constant blue glow so much that Damen had purchased him a night light with a teal cover. His room was always bathed in that oceanic glow, so unlike the pitch black and bare mattress, the smell of old clothes and sweat that had seeped into every inch of his childhood ‘bedroom’.

Mostly now his room smelled softly of lavender and clean sheets but sometimes, sometimes in the rare thunderstorm that caused their power to stop and start, he swore he could still smell--

Nicaise held his breath as the lights seemed to breathe in a rattling, flickering gasp. The bars of light in the bulbs held and Nicaise breathed a sigh of relief, his back sweating.

“Mmm!” Lyas wriggled in his arms, his face pouting with discomfort.

Nicaise realized he had been squeezing the baby tightly and relaxed his grip. “Sorry, sorry, Lyas.” He kissed Lyas’ reddish curls and Lyas seemed pleased enough with the apology, snuggling back down into the crook of Nicaise’s arm.

His heart rate was just getting back to normal when there was a noise like a thousand television screens powering down and the house descended to darkness.

The same blackness descended into his heart and he suddenly felt as though he was dying. Time was moving quickly but Nicaise was processing everything slowly. Lyas felt as though he weighed a thousand pounds from where he was pressed into Nicaise’s arm and chest. He felt as though he should go in search of light but his legs would not move how he wanted them to.

The darkness was going to swallow him whole if he moved. 

In the back of his mind, he heard that asinine therapist’s voice telling him what to do in case of a--

_ Panic attack. I’m having a panic attack. Need to breathe normally, I need-- _ light-- _ I need to calm down _ .

It took a moment for him to remember his breathing exercises, Lyas cooing softly as if in encouragement. Nicaise stroked those silky baby curls in hopes that it would help speed the process. He was just getting back to some semblance of normalcy when he saw movement.

Nicaise was sensitive to sudden movement and all his hard work measuring his breath was for naught. 

There were dark shapes outside of the large picture window, shadows from his nightmares. They were clearly men dressed in black, faceless and nameless just like the hundreds, thousands of men who had haunted him. 

Usually Nicaise fought and spit fire but...faced with this deep, visceral, animalistic fear, he froze.

_ They were coming to get him. They always said they’d bring him back if he ran. Even though Laurent and Damen swore they were dead or locked away, there was no way he could ever be so stupid to think he was safe. He wanted Damen and Laurent here; they said they would protect him _ .

With the power out, the alarms and the camera would not be able to send alerts to Damen and Laurent quick enough. His phone was upstairs, beyond reach, because he had been so spiteful and stubborn. 

Nicaise shrank back against the couch, hoping that if he was very small and very quiet, no one would notice him. It had never worked in the past but…

Nicaise was so deep in his terror that he did not even flinch as he heard the sound of the front door opening. A small part of him that had not yet been snuffed out or killed--not quite yet--blazed with hope that Damen and Laurent had come home. That they would turn the lights on and save him. Surely he could not be so lucky two times in his life.

It was not until someone actually spoke to him that he snapped out of his spiral of fear.

“Hello, pretty baby.”

It was a voice Nicaise did not recognize and the mention of ‘baby’ was like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. It was the first time he considered that Lyas could be a target and he leapt to his feet, backing quickly towards the back door. There were a half dozen of them, from what he could see in the low light leftover from sunset, all dressed in black like Damen and Laurent did on missions. 

Black masks to shield their identities, black gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints, black caps to prevent any hair left at the scene. Big and bulky, they looked capable of snapping Nicaise’s arms with one hand or cracking his ribs with a solid kick. 

_ Predators _ . 

He’d seen enough in his fourteen years of life to know the type.

They watched him move and Nicaise saw more shadows out in the garden. Even if he did make it out, they would get him. Maybe if he could yell for help… He certainly couldn’t grab a weapon without dropping Lyas.

If they took Lyas...Nicaise was too horrified to think of it.

“Who the fuck,” they approached him in one synchronized step, like something out of his nightmares and he squeezed Lyas so tight against his chest that the baby made a thin little noise of discomfort. “ _ Stop _ !” 

They did not stop. Men like this never did.

Lightning quick, one reached out to grasp his upper arm hard enough to bruise and Nicaise felt his hold on his rationale slip just a fraction. There was a deep well of visceral, animalistic survival instinct in him and his body rebelled as another man gripped his other arm. “Let me  _ go _ ! You  _ bastards _ ! Motherfuckers! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you  _ all _ !” He meant it; if he had had a weapon, he would have used it indiscriminately at no thought to his own safety but he was armed only with what he had and it was not much. Though his hold on Lyas did not falter, his legs kicked out in wild pinwheels, aiming blindly. His foot caught one intruder in the nose as he tried to grasp for Nicaise’s ankle and Nicaise felt a brief flash of wicked, irrational glee as he heard cartilage crunch and the man yell in dismay. Another caught a solid hit to the flank and swore, some of their companions drawing back in hesitation over the fight Nicaise was putting up.

He would tire eventually but until then…

One man in black dodged the mad fury of his legs and took hold of Lyas by one arm. Nicaise saw Lyas’ sweet little face twist in pain, his lips trembling, and the sight somehow cut through his rampage. “Stop!” Nicaise did not dare loosen his grip on Lyas as the man tugged. He would not let them have Lyas, would not surrender the sweet baby to such a terrible fate. Lyas yelped as the man continued to pull him and Nicaise tried to adjust his grip so that he was holding on to Lyas’ onesie, but his hands were shaking and sweating. “ _ Stop _ !  _ Please _ !”

Lyas began to cry out in pain, the sound so horrible that Nicaise made a split second decision. 

He would not risk them breaking Lyas’ arm and he eased his fingers, hoping that the man pulling had a good grip on the baby. Lyas slid out and Nicaise felt hands yanking his hair back. There was a muffled swear and a soft thump on the ground that made Nicaise sick in the pit of his gut.

It sounded like a tiny body hitting a wood floor. 

Though it caused a jolt of pain in his neck, Nicaise twisted his head free to see that the masked man had lost his hold on Lyas and the baby had dropped perhaps three feet, thankfully landing on his butt. Even so, it must have hurt him, because his mouth was open in an upside-down crescent and he looked up at Nicaise with wide, shocked eyes that began to brim with tears.

He threw back his tiny head and wailed, fat tears pouring down his cheeks, and he stretched out his arms, begging Nicaise for comfort.

Nicaise reached back, howling his brother’s name even though the distance was too far. Lyas continued to reach for him even after he was picked up by one of the intruders, his eyes never leaving Nicaise. And Nicaise kept calling for Lyas, reaching for him in return, until he was pinned down and gassed with something that smelled familiar. Something that made him sleep…

Lyas’ cries rang in his ears softer and softer until it was drowned out by the hunted, rabbit-quick rhythm of his heartbeat. 

  
  



	8. 7:00PM He Might Be Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're almost halfway through, folks and here comes hell in a happy little hand basket. Though he's honestly devious and determined enough to get out of this situation himself, I thought I'd offer him a little help haha! Also this is 100% the way to get out of zip ties so if you are looking for some interesting self defense tips, I highly recommend you check that one out. 
> 
> Nicaise in this story has a lot of fire and bravado but he's also incredibly insecure. Even so, I still wanted him to be super street smart and cunning; this is just his way of survival so he doesn't see anything extraordinary about it. He's about to meet his match (aside from Laurent)! Also love the idea that Lyas takes after Damen when he's grumpy. On the rare occasion he's pissed or upset he gives that frown and the Veretians are torn between laughter and alarm about how much he's like his Akielon dad.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter with a little bit of humor to lighten up the previous chapter!

Nicaise came back to himself slowly.

His head was cottony, his limbs heavy, and he was sure that if he tried to speak then his words would come out in a garbled, slurred mess. ‘Luckily’ he had been through the experience often enough that he knew what to do. Deep, calming breaths with eyes closed and body still.

He wished he had some water or somewhere to piss out the drug, but that could come later on when he got his body under control and remembered what the hell was going on. Slowly, slowly, he got control of his limbs and his mind.

When he opened his eyes, the world was less blurry and he took in the shithole he’d found himself in.

He had thoughtfully been placed on the hard floor in such a way that his shoulders and neck were cramping in pain.

There were no lights inside, but there was enough neon glow from the outside that he could still see fairly clearly. It looked like an empty, under-construction guest bedroom in some shitty fucking apartment downtown: painter’s cloth covering parts of the uneven wood floor, rusted paint cans stacked in the corner alongside some two-by-fours, old wallpaper that was spotted with damp and peeling from the corners, and a single window that likely hadn’t been opened since before Nicaise was born. 

Charming accommodations, as Laurent would say.

It took him a moment later to remember that he had been kidnapped, his heart rate speeding up exponentially. That would explain the white plastic zip ties around his wrists and ankles. He sat up slowly, formulating a plan of what to do as he--

It hit him like a kick in the ribs.

“L-Lyas!” His head spun as he looked around and, thank the gods, it did not take him long to locate his baby brother. “Elyas!”

Lyas was sitting a few feet away from Nicaise on the cold floor. His eyes were swollen from crying--it was the first time in his life that had been so frightened and upset with no familiar face coming to comfort him--and his lower lip quivered when he saw that Nicaise was awake and moving. He hiccupped, leaning his entire upper body towards Nicaise in an effort to reach him.

It was heartbreaking. “ _ Lyas _ . Lyas. Hang on!” Nicaise hissed through chattering teeth. “I’m coming just...hang on.”

The inept bastards who’d taken them had zip-tied Nicaise’s hands and feet but his hands were bound in the front. With practiced ease, Nicaise shifted the plastic so that the locking mechanism was between his wrists. Lining up his elbows to his hips, he thrust his arms backwards at full force and the plastic severed neatly. Taking the sturdy strip, he looped it between the tie at his ankles and sawed vigorously until it too fractured from the heat and friction. 

Amateur hour. 

As soon as he was free, he scrambled over to Lyas and scooped him up. For once, Lyas did not mind that Nicaise was holding him just a touch too tight. His tiny shoulders were hitching with quiet sobs, twin wet patches spreading across Nicaise’s shirt. Nicaise’s temples hurt--strong emotions like anger and sorrow seemed to collect there and throb, as if he was about to sprout horns--as he rocked Lyas, rubbing his tiny back. 

“It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m here, I got you. I got you and I swear to god I’m gonna get you out of here. Damen’s gonna pay me my f-fucking babysitting money. Lyas…” 

Even though the situation was dire, Nicaise took his time to soothe his baby brother. It took a little longer than usual but finally Lyas drooped a little and his quiet cries tapered off. Nicaise rocked him a little longer just to make absolutely sure before pulling back slightly.

Lyas still gripped his shirt, unwilling to let go, and his face was a wet mess of snot and tears but he smiled when he saw Nicaise. Lashes wet, two tears squeezed out and traced his cheeks to his chin.

Nicaise kissed his forehead before shifting him gently, just to check, just to make sure…

His onesie and diaper were undisturbed. There were no bruises. And Nicaise breathed a sigh of abject relief. Whoever had taken them, the worst they had done to Lyas was to scare and abandon him. When allowed, Lyas pressed his face back against Nicaise’s collarbone and began making little noises to comfort himself as Nicaise looked around for a viable exit. 

There were two doors in the room that he could try and if neither one opened maybe the window--

Nicaise jolted as he heard heavy-booted footsteps and low voices in the area just outside his room; something told him that whoever it was was coming to check on him. His intuition had never failed him in that respect and he choked back his instinctual fear in favor of protecting himself and Lyas. The broken zip ties he laced around his ankles and wrists, hoping that no one would inspect too closely. Lyas he could not bear to push away so soon after he had calmed down so Nicaise simply pushed his wrists under Lyas’ bottom to further hide his freedom. 

Then he forced himself to go limp and tempered his breathing. The waiting for what might happen was the worst part.

Sure enough, the door on the wall closest to him opened with a creak and Nicaise heard the sound of a handful of people entering. Lyas whimpered at the sight of them, curling close to Nicaise. 

“How’d the baby get over here?”

“It’s a baby, it can fucking crawl. So this is them, huh? The hunter’s kids?” Only mental preparation and years of ‘practice’ pretending to be a limp doll or--worse--dead on a bed kept him from jumping as he felt a rough hand under his chin and jaw, tilting his head. “He’s a pretty little thing, isn’t he?”

“Have you seen Laurent, that wild leopard? Got a face like an angel. This one takes after him.”

Nicaise’s head lolled as it was dropped and he contemplated how to rebuild his mental fortitude, his defenses weak after years of them lying fallow. Laurent and Damen had been...decent enough to him and these comments--any comments--about his looks set him on edge.

“So when have we been ordered to contact those two? Damen and Laurent, I mean?”

“As early as possible. We have audio recordings of the pretty one screaming up a storm back at the house, if worse comes to worse.”

“True. We can send Laurent that first if the kids refuse to cooperate.”

“He’s skinny as hell. With the beating we can give them both, they’ll cooperate. Kids’ bones snap easy as twigs.” Nicaise missed the next few sentiments, lost in the reminder of how terrible adults could be, how cruel, how badly they liked to hurt him. Though Damen was an idiot brute and Laurent was an ice-cold, callous bitch, at least neither of them hurt him on purpose...

“We’ve got word that the older one is a terror. Real devil with his claws out, if you know what I mean. He might be trouble. Clam up if we ask him to do anything.”

“If worse comes to worse, just whack the baby a couple times, maybe slice off one of its toes. At least one of them will cry then.” 

Nicaise gripped Lyas’ little onesie to keep from doing something wild and foolish. His first meeting Damen, he had been utterly terrified of how wild and furious the man had been; now he wished he was as tall and strong as Damen so that he could snap these men’s necks. He’d  _ kill _ them if they cut bits off Lyas.

“If you think it will get messy, we should set some shit up.” Nicaise could already hear the distinctive sound of black or blue tarp underfoot, feel the sturdy wood of a chair that would not break no matter how hard he strained to get free of it, see the horrible, merciless red eye of a filming camera. “Think you two can hold down the fort until we come back?”

“So long as this one won’t raise hell.” Nicaise felt a fairly firm kick to his calf. “The walls and floors of this place are dead thin.”

“We sprayed him with the good stuff. He’ll be out for another half an hour at  _ least _ .”

Nicaise almost snorted and gave himself away. 

Clearly they did not know much about him past the fact that he had been adopted by Damen and Laurent because if so they would have known that Nicaise had had a solid taste of just about every anesthesia and knock-out drug cycling through Marlas. In fact, he had been told by the pediatrician Laurent had dragged him to, that he needed an alert on his file if he were ever to have surgery because he had built up such a tolerance to those types of drugs. Even if it was ‘the good stuff’ Nicaise’s practiced body would have it out of his system with almost a full hour to spare.  _ What _ a fucking superpower.

In any case, it had bought him a half an hour’s worth of time to try and figure out a way to escape. He waited until they had left the room and counted down from one hundred before he got up to look for a way out.

He avoided the door to what he assumed was the main area of the apartment; no fucking sense in running out into death’s open arms and blowing this one shining ray of hope he’d been offered. No, first try was the window. 

It unlatched easily enough but it seemed that the frame was painted shut and would not move under all of Nicaise’s miniscule power. Once again, he wished he had Damen’s physique so that he could simply rip the window frame from the wall.

“I hope whoever owns this place chokes on a thousand unwashed dicks.” 

“Mmm,” Lyas hummed in baleful agreement.

He went for the second door, his final plan being to barricade the main door, take one of the rusted paint cans and use it to smash through the window, and then figure out step three after the window was broken. But the second door was unlocked and swung inward with minimal creaking. 

It was the apartment bathroom.

The mirror had a big crack down the center, there was mold between the tiles and Nicaise had a feeling that if he looked in either the shower or the toilet, the white porcelain would be streaked with orangey-brown grime. But it was something new and  _ the window was fucking open _ . 

Clearly to air out the smell of cigarettes and shit, the bathroom window was wide open and letting in pleasant gusts of cool night air. Nicaise hurried over to see his options while Lyas grumbled over being jostled.

“Oh fuck, Lyas. This one’s going to be a real bitch and a half.” 

At least there was an option, but it wasn’t a pretty one. 

Just left of the open windowsill, Nicaise could make out the wrought-iron railing of one of those old-style city fire escapes that seemed to be so popular in apartment complexes in the slums. Fuck anyone who’s apartment caught fire while they were in the bathroom; only one room in the apartment really had full access to escape a blaze or a bunch of homicidal, kidnapping assholes.

However, there was a thin, decorative concrete ledge just outside the open window, likely too thin for a full grown adult, but just wide enough to accommodate Nicaise if he did not place both feet side by side. Thank the gods he had kept his shoes on in the house and he made a mental note to bring this up to Damen if the man ever gave him shit about wearing his shoes inside. 

It was perhaps six feet to the rickety fire escape but a three story drop if he misstepped. Carrying Lyas across was going to be a heartstopping endeavor but Nicaise would take his chances with the fire escape.

He would not be able to bear it if they tortured Lyas. 

“Ok Lyas, we’re gonna fucking do this.” Nicaise pumped himself up as he eased himself out the window, getting solid footing on the ledge before reaching in to grab Lyas and tuck the baby down the front of his shirt. His plan was to keep Lyas between his body and the wall, his face towards the brick so that he was not tempted to look down. “Gonna fucking--oh, fuck my ass, this is the  _ worst _ .” He edged across precious inches at a time and heard Lyas fuss a little. “Please don’t cry, please just hang on Lyas or I’m going to lose my shit. Almost there.” That was an abject lie.

He felt as though the fire escape had not gotten any closer and his palms were sweaty from where he held his brother. Nausea crept up on him as he thought of hands grabbing his ankles or a strong wind knocking him off balance or his grip on Lyas slipping or--

After years of practice, Nicaise had perfected biting back groans of pain and discomfort; he did so as he pressed his forehead against the wall, scraping his skin against the rough brick. Step by step and he reached out his hand, holding Lyas tight with the other in spite of the way Lyas grumbled.

He nearly yelped as his fingers stubbed against the cold railing. Instead, he bit his tongue and hoisted himself over on instinct alone.

The rusty metal felt like tangible cool relief under his sneakers and he collapsed on the pounded sheet-metal floor as soon as he and Lyas had room to spare. Nicaise gave himself the luxury of a moment to catch his breath and whisper every foul curse word he’d ever heard in his life. 

Lyas, tired and unimpressed, continued to fuss a little and Nicaise patted his back lovingly. “You’d best shut up, Lyas. If you alert them and get us captured, I’m not fucking doing that ledge stunt again.”

He got to his feet slowly and regarded the fire escape with derision.

It seemed like half was rusted away, the railings hanging off by screws and most of the steps had powdery orange holes set like pitfalls. Nicaise wanted to see Damen navigate the escape, watch him drop through like a boulder through a sheet of tissue paper. The thought gave him enough good humor to clear the last of the adrenaline and decide on his next course of action. He certainly didn’t like being out in the open, in clear view of the room he’d just escaped.

He put Lyas down to test his weight on the steps and giggled with a sharp edge of bell-like hysteria as Lyas frowned deeply--almost exactly like Damen did when people flirted with Laurent--at having to be separated. “Fucking--do you want to fall through one of these rusty holes, Lyas? I certainly fucking don’t. Just let me test these steps and then I’ll pick you up, ok?”

Though Lyas did not put up further complaint, his frown deepened the further Nicaise stepped from him. 

The stairs held his weight and Nicaise rushed back to scoop up Lyas and tiptoe down the escape to the very bottom level. The ladder meant to go to the sidewalk had long since been torn off, leaving only two rusty orange bolts behind and Nicaise looked at the leg-breaking drop with hatred and fear mingling in his torso. 

The universe was really fucking him in the mouth this evening.

If he got out of this in one piece, he was going to put a premium on his babysitting rates. Couldn’t do long division or spell his name up until about a year ago, but escaping zip ties and torture and a shitty fire escape with a baby in tow? Surely that was more than what other sitters could boast by way of useful skills.

Nicaise was still trying to figure out what to do when he noticed the tendrils of pearly smoke moving past his shoulder. A building fire while he was on a junk fire escape with no ladder would be just a long-popped cherry on top of the shit cake that was his life at the moment.

“If it’s a house fire, you owe me all of your college money.” Nicaise lied in hopes of bringing up his mood. Lyas made a tired face, clearly wanting his bed, which Nicaise took to mean he didn’t like his odds. His turn was slow and he--

It wasn’t a house fire.

It seemed as though the owner of one of the first floor apartments had left their window open to air out whatever incense they were burning. Edging closer, Nicaise could smell the smoke a little better and it wavered somewhere between sweetly medicinal and skunky; not as sweet as a sex drug but not as acrid as real smoke. Lyas’ nose scrunched at the smell and he looked up at Nicaise in disgust.

Nicaise muffled his laughter at the new expression. “What? I mean, at least you get to keep your college money. And this is nothing compared to ball sweat, let me fucking assure you of that.”

At another crossroads, Nicaise looked back up the fire escape.

It went back up to the roof where there was likely a service entrance. But, it could be the type that locked from the inside and he’d have to go down past the floor where he’d been held, risking any men standing guard catching him. Still...he hated the thought of going into strange apartments. 

It had never worked out well for him in the past.

His heart beat erratically as he thought about said past and he turned to the one person that was almost guaranteed to improve his mood. “You won the bet, Lyas, so you get to pick: should we go up to the roof and see if there’s a service entrance or break into this apartment?”

Lyas looked up at him with those pretty wide brown eyes of his--everyone always praised Nicaise’s pale blue eyes, but he found them cold and flat. He’d much rather have sweet, dark eyes like Lyas had. The baby looked up at him in all seriousness, gave a tiny sneeze, and then made a motion Uncle Auguste referred to as the ‘grabby fists’ towards the semi-open window. 

Nicaise looked, steeled his heart, and then kissed Lyas’ forehead. “Alright, chubby baby. Let’s hope you’re luckier than your brother.”

After shimmying the window up a little higher without setting Lyas down, Nicaise slid, feet first into the living room of someone’s shitty apartment. 

It was warm inside, likely thanks to the half dozen candles dripping wax onto the coffee table and leaning bookshelf. Decorated like a Patran whorehouse, the place seemed to glow red-orange thanks to the massive decorative rug that somehow maintained its vibrant color despite being so threadbare. 

Nicaise was inclined to like it until he saw the drugs.

They were set in a massive pile on the ‘kitchen table’, stamp-sized baggies, measuring spoons, and a scale scattered haphazardly around the mountain on some of the mismatched chairs. But Nicaise recognized the pale pink powder as something his former clients liked to snort if they wanted to be up all night. It probably had eight thousand slang names like ‘pussy powder’ or ‘pink lightning’ or ‘Laurent’s asshole’ if Damen were in charge of naming it.

Nicaise sighed.

This apartment complex really just had it all: kidnappers, drug dealers...all it needed was an illegal massage parlor or a fight club on the second floor to make it the complete fucking package. It was likely that the incense was also drugged--that would explain the smell--and Nicaise hastily dropped it out the window onto the fire escape to keep it from affecting him and Lyas any further.

Lyas was also looking around, his tiredness forgotten in the face of his curiosity.

“Ok Lyas,” Nicaise murmured, “let’s see if we can find a phone and some money and get the hell out of here before the bastard who lives here--”

He came out of what Nicaise assumed was the bathroom--thankfully dressed--barefoot, with his longish, dark hair tied back out of his face and a plume of smoke following in his wake. He was a bit swarthy for a Veretian--maybe Patran, or half Akielon--though his eyes were a light jade green color. Despite the fact that his house was a drug den, he seemed surprisingly lucid, if scruffy, and took notice of the two intruders in his home almost immediately.

The man looked at the slender, smoking cigarillo in his hand and then back at Nicaise...then back at the cigarillo...back to Nicaise, his pale eyes narrowing slowly. “Holy fuck, this shit is  _ strong _ . I thought for a second they gave me a bum batch. Are you--?”

“Of course I’m fucking real you drug-riddled motherfucker!” Nicaise hissed in fury. “Now put that shit out! It can’t be good for my baby brother!” Nicaise did not know much about recreational drugs but he felt safe in thinking that they couldn’t be good for tiny baby lungs.

“What baby?”

“This fucking baby!” Nicaise held a frowning Lyas up.

“Oh shit, it’s a baby! Hang on.” Nicaise heard the soft hiss of something hot being tossed in water and the man reappeared looking much more lucid. Apparently it  _ was _ a bum batch. “So...it’s not the drugs, I’m not hallucinating; what are a baby and a…” He tilted his head and was clearly trying to gauge Nicaise’s age; Nicaise had seen it often enough to know the look, though this man did not have that predatory cast to his eyes, “tall child doing in my apartment? Fairly certain that I bolted the front door but…”

Nicaise felt his stomach plummet to his toes. 

He knew that trusting the man was a gamble and edged back toward the half-closed window...just in case. It was difficult to trust anyone who was not...any men who weren’t Damen and Laurent...and even then...but…

But there was the potential that this drug-addled bastard wasn’t a complete and utter fucking reprobrate, as opposed to the people he had just escaped from. They were going to torture him without question to have Damen and Laurent come running. Nicaise braced himself, even though his fingers were shaking.

“ _ Please _ ,” the word tasted a little bitter, “can you help us?”

  
  



	9. 8:00PM A True Veretian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the friendly neighborhood drug dealer to lend an assist haha! Though Nicaise may regret it in the long run. He may have met his match in Laurent as far as wits but...as far as being deplorable and foul-mouthed? Yeah, I had so much fun writing their banter ;) After so much angst, time for a little humor!
> 
> Also! I have good news and bad news! The bad news is that due to the holidays, I likely won't be updating next week. BUT when I do update again, Pallas is going to make his appearance! I love you all and I hope you have happy holidays, if you celebrate!

There was a long moment of silence when Nicaise stared down the drug dealer with a hammering heart. His green eyes were wide and he scratched at the back of his neck. “Help you? Do you need some drugs?”

“I think I hate you already.” Nicaise said on instinct, torn between disbelief and disgust.

At the very least he laughed. “I think you’re kind of shitty at asking for help, kid. I assume you’re not with the Marlas Narcotics Enforcement then?” His smile gave it away; it was vulpine, much like Laurent’s when he was being an asshole on purpose, and Nicaise felt heat of anger and embarrassment in his cheeks as he realized he was being teased. “What’s your name?”

“You first.” Nicaise shot back. He would not easily give the upper hand with anything, even with something so simple as his name. 

He shrugged, wiry shoulders stretching at the cloth of his old t-shirt. “Lazar’s my name. Just the friendly neighborhood _éprouvette_ .” Nicaise’s eyes narrowed, as he knew of _éprouvette’s_ from the darker days. They were rare and imperative to the narcotics trade, clever enough with chemistry and fearless around suppliers and dealers; they served to see if a batch of drugs was legitimate and could cut a batch with lesser quality, for the right price. From what he’d heard, it was a tricky business but so invaluable that this Lazar fellow would never run afoul of anyone who sold drugs in the city. 

Some fucking apartment complex. 

“I’m Nicaise.” Nicaise said unwillingly. “And this is my little brother, Elyas.”

“I see the resemblance.” Lazar responded, deadpan. 

“Mnghm.” Lyas grumbled by way of contribution to the conversation and Lazar’s mouth quirked up in quick fondness. Nicaise trusted the man one iota more, his shoulders angling a little away from the half-open window.

“Fair enough, baby. So you said you need help.” He walked over to one of the wooden chairs and dumped its contents carelessly onto the floor. “Want to elaborate on that?” Nicaise suddenly remembered that the kidnappers were going to check on him soon. He had perhaps twenty minutes? Maybe less? The fear must have shown on his face as he glanced upwards because Lazar followed his gaze with narrowed eyes. “I take it you’re in some pretty serious trouble. You two escaped pets?” He said this with genuine anger.

Many men had said similar things with anger or pity when other adults were around, but Nicaise could see them appraising him, imagining. They were the type to forget that anger and pity once they were alone in a room with him. 

This Lazar fellow was alone with him in a room and the anger remained.

“Why?” Nicaise’s voice sounded very far away from his body but he could not help himself. “You need your dick sucked?”

Lazar barked a laugh, seemingly unable to help himself. “You’re a true Veretian aren’t you?” His jade eyes were cool as they stayed firmly on Nicaise’s face. “You’re about ten years too young and sixty-eight kilos too light to get in line for this ride. You try and do anything to me and I’m going to blow cigarette smoke up your nose, you wee bitch.” 

Nicaise wanted to do something childish in the face of this man’s supreme confidence, his disinterest in being diplomatic towards a kid.

Nicaise wanted to make a face or throw something at Lazar but he resisted the urge. It was important that he remain calm and adultlike. It was safer and less attractive to act like an adult. 

Quite suddenly the events of the past few hours hit him like a kick in the balls and not only was he not relishing in being a little bitch, he was actually exhausted by it. Suddenly he wanted to be at home, on the couch with Lyas sleeping next to him. He wondered if he would ever feel comfortable in the living room again or...if his eyes would always be watching the backyard, waiting for the shadows to come back. His throat felt a little thick as he swallowed.

“I want,” _to go home_ , “to call someone. Let me use your phone.”

“Fresh out of luck with that one,” Lazar walked leisurely to the kitchen table and fished out a cellphone that had more white fractures than screen. “My boyfriend, my Baby Beef, accidentally dropped ass on his phone while we were fucking.” Nicaise raised an eyebrow at Lazar’s candid tongue. It was...refreshing in a way, to be spoken to like he was an adult; at least the man didn’t coddle him. “He’s got an ass that could bend steel so it was hardly a fair fight. So I gave him my phone while he’s on shift tonight.”

“Ohhhhh my fucking gods.” Nicaise groaned and would have put his head in his hands if they hadn’t been full of Lyas.

“If you’re gonna call the City Guard, I humbly request that you don’t ask them to come here. They generally frown on large piles of drugs and children being in the same house. Though technically you are breaking in…”

“I don’t even know where the fuck we are.” Nicaise snarled trying not to sound hysterical. How could he be self-sufficient, responsible and independent when he felt so lost? He held Lyas tight.

“Oh, that’s easy enough. You’re in the Huître Quarter.”

“Ah…” Nicaise knew the Huître Quarter. On the western outskirts of the Marlas city limits, it was known for being a rough area. Drugs, violence, whorehouses, Nicaise would not be surprised if he had unknowingly ‘visited’ the Huître Quarter in his younger days. It was fairly far from his home and any plans of walking home were immediately doused.

Lazar watched him as these thoughts raced through his mind and inclined his dark head towards Nicaise. “You hold him any tighter and it’s going to bruise his little baby ribs. Baby Beef sat on my chest once to face-fuck me and we had to go to the emergency clinic to wrap my bruised ribs. I do not recommend it.”

Nicaise eased up his hold on Lyas, kissing his brother’s forehead.

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmured to Lyas and Lyas gave him a quick smile, clearly easy to forgive. “Well I need to use a fucking phone. I need--”

Lazar nodded. At least he was quick on the uptake. “If you need a phone, we can always...I guess go see my Baby Beef to borrow my phone.” He smiled as he redid his ponytail. “Should be interesting.”

“Why are you so willing to help us?”

Lazar laughed at him. “Do you want my fucking help or not?” 

Lyas answered first, his lower lip trembling. “Hnnngh!”

Lazar’s eyebrows shot up and Nicaise glanced up at the ceiling nervously. “Is that a yes? My Patran is not up to snuff unless it has to do with tentacles, eggs, or cooking Patran curry.”

“I--” There was not enough time in the world to answer all of Nicaise’s questions, “He’s just tired. It’s past his bedtime and all of this is probably too much for him.” The guilt over this basic torture for Lyas was too much for Nicaise. He murmured his apologies as he rocked Lyas back and forth the way Damen did.

Lazar nodded. “If it’s too loud for him, I might be able to help with that. Wait here.” 

He strode to--what Nicaise assumed was--the bedroom, and returned with a small plastic package, which he tossed to Nicaise. 

“Why the fuck do you have earplugs on hand?” Nicaise asked as he opened the pack and kneaded the wax thin enough to fit in Lyas’ ears. Lyas _hated_ them, whimpering with anger as he rubbed his fists against his ears in a feeble attempt to remove the plugs. “Some weird fetish--Lyas, stop.”

“Neighbors above us like to argue. He’s a mean drunk but she’s a cruel bitch. Match made in heaven, if you ask me. The lovebirds like to fight around five a.m. when he rolls home,” Lazar grinned at him, clearly past the point of being irritated at the noise and likely did all he could to exacerbate their animosity towards each other. A shit-stirrer, Nicaise knew the type because he fell into that category himself. “So Baby Beef and I put these in and sleep like the fucking dead.”

“Clearly you’ve never had a baby.” Nicaise spat back. 

“It’s not for lack of trying.” Lazar shrugged. “Curse these narrow hips of mine.”

“It’s going to be hard for him to sleep regardless. He likes being held,” very unlike his older brother, “and it’s hard to keep him steady for so long.” His arms were a little tired and shaky from carrying Lyas for so long; he’d let his arms fall off before he put Lyas down but...he had always hated pain.

“Oh here.” Lazar picked up what looked like a colorful rag and shook it violently. All manner of things--buttons, loose mints, packets of seeds, a mountain of unopened condoms, a duck-patterned umbrella--rained down over Lazar’s floor. “You can put Lyas in this.”

“Call him Elyas.” Nicaise demanded. “Only I can call him ‘Lyas’.” Then, once he caught the technicolor garment, “What the fuck is this?”

It was clearly one of those kitschy Patran-made cloth backpacks, the type that seemed to use every color of thread known to man. So popular with shoestring-budget travelers and cheap college students, it seemed that they held together for years in perfect condition before inexplicably unraveling. 

“We might need your skinny little hands on this adventure. You can stick _Elyas_ ,” he deliberately enunciated the name, “in the backpack and wear it on your front like one of those baby sling things.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind!”

“You got a better idea? Shifty little bitch. Oh and take that sweatshirt on the couch. Hood will hide your face.”

Nicaise gnashed his teeth but, given his limited resources, it was the best thing he had to work with at the moment. After putting on the sweatshirt that was almost long enough to reach his knees, he took the soft blanket Lazar offered and tucked it inside the pack before lowering Lyas in. Though reluctant at first, Lyas snuggled in and gave a sleepy smile once Nicaise had put the backpack on his chest.

“You like that? Is that better?” Nicaise smiled back at him, though it was likely matched in exhaustion. “You can sleep, Lyas, and we’ll take it from here.”

“You doing ok?” Lazar asked from the other room. “You sounded almost _kind_ there for a moment.”

“He’s a _baby_.” Nicaise spat back. “People who aren’t kind to little babies are...assholes.” Babies and kids didn’t hurt him. They just wanted love and attention. Maybe he had been like that before but...it was likely that it had not been that way since long before he could recall.

“Good to know that you do have some standards.” Lazar said, as he re-emerged with some sort of rainbow nightmare in his arms.

“Fucking--how many of those backpacks do you have?”

“It’s camouflage.”

“For _what_? A dye festival in a Patran bathhouse? The only people who wouldn’t see that are probably tripping balls.” 

“Good thing those exact people are my customers.” Lazar said with a cheeky wink. “Now I know it’s hard but try to keep your mouth shut; I assume that you can use your ears on special occasions?”

He could, but it quickly fell by the wayside as he and a half-asleep Lyas watched Lazar pack the ‘essentials’. 

The essentials for an _éprouvette_ \--which Nicaise filed away for future reference--were a fistful of loose band-aids, a couple of granola bars, a pair of old ladies’ gardening gloves, some loose socks, a small leather pouch that might have been a lockpick set, and a butane torch, similar to the ones Laurent used to toast to top of crème brûlée. Wire cutters, pliers, and a pack of playing cards went into the pockets of his jeans and a crow bar fetched from the bathroom he kept loosely in his right hand, as if it was a fencing sabre. Nicaise was about to ask why he kept a crowbar in the bathroom but he never got the chance. 

He had known in the back of his mind that, once his disappearance was noticed, all hell was going to break loose. The kidnappers did not disappoint. 

Lazar’s green eyes flicked to the ceiling as someone cursed loudly and there was the sound of doors slamming and glass splintering. Then lots of booted feet running, almost drowning out the shouting. Nicaise tensed and Lyas made a soft whimper at seeing the expression on his older brother’s face.

“Friends of yours?” Nicaise noticed his knuckles tighten slightly on the crowbar.

“They’re gonna hurt Lyas.” Nicaise whispered, holding the backpack a little closer so that Lyas’ curls tickled his chin. “Said they were going to cut off his toes and now--” now, it was probably going to be worse.

“Can’t have that.” He moved quickly, lithe and lean like Laurent was, and cracked the front door open. “Let’s go before they start searching apartments.”

“I thought you said your Beef Bitch took your car.” Nicaise hissed the moment he saw that the door was open. He all but hid behind Lazar, staying as close as possible to the man without actually touching him. The hallway outside the crack of the door looked exactly how Nicaise had imagined it would look. It looked like it would reek of piss.

“Honestly, I’m a little mad that we didn’t pick ‘Beef Bitch’ for his nickname…” Lazar whispered in return. Also, we’re just going to have to improvise. Maybe ‘borrow’ my neighbor’s car?”

“ _Borrow_?” Exhilaration from fear and potential law-breaking had Nicaise’s heart beating almost out of his chest.

“Can you hotwire a car?”

“No.”

“Tch.” Lazar made a noise of derision as he looked up towards the stairwell. “You kids are so useless.”

“At least I can suck dick without needing to go to the ER.” Nicaise shot back and Lyas grumbled in agreement. 

“Fair enough.” Nicaise almost sputtered at Lazar’s reaction; he had never in his life met someone like this man. “Stay close to me and I’ll figure something out. Oh, and I know you’re a chronic asshole but if you could keep your bitching to a minimum, that would be ideal.”

Nicaise put up the massive hood of the sweatshirt he’d been given, hiding his dark curls, and rested the flap of the backpack over Lyas’s head in hopes that no one would notice there was a baby inside. Lyas was the grumpiest that Nicaise had ever seen him and wrinkled his nose as he tried to push the fabric off his head. Nicaise felt guilty for keeping him up so late but...things were out of his control at the moment.

The hallway outside did not smell of piss--though the smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol was not much better--but there were bottles and cans and empty takeout containers littered in the corners. Lazar took the steps two at a time, glancing back up the stairwell before motioning Nicaise forward. It looked like the kidnappers had not yet sent anyone out to stand guard at the front door.

Nicaise hustled down the steps as quickly as he could...which turned out to be their undoing.

Lyas clearly felt he had suffered enough.

He had been kidnapped, terrified, left cold and alone on the floor, and then been jostled through a window and into a backpack, keeping him up long past his normal bedtime. Being bounced up and down as Nicaise ran was a bridge too far. Lazar had just opened the front door of the apartment complex when Lyas gave one warbling cry as a warning. 

“No, no, _Lyas_ \--” Nicaise hissed, trying to soothe him. Too little too late.

Lyas started crying--loudly, thanks to the earplugs--tears pouring down his cheeks, and Lazar looked back up the stairwell with a touch of nervousness in his grin. “Oh... _fuck me_.”

“ _I hear them_!” Came the responding shout from several floors up and Nicaise felt his muscles lock up tight. If not for Lazar, he might have remained motionless in the hallway just a touch too long. Instead, a warm, dry hand wrapped lightly around his wrist and tugged him out into the empty street.

The place was exactly like Nicaise had imagined: lots of corrugated metal shutters covering up shop fronts, rusted cars parked halfway onto the sidewalks, and foreboding, claustrophobic alleyways. Lazar made a beeline for a lime green hot rod, pushing Nicaise and Lyas to the passenger side before sliding feet first across the hood of the car. It was such an unexpected move that Lyas stopped crying, his mouth quirking up cautiously as Lazar laughed.

“I’ve always wanted to try that!” Going to the driver’s side door, Lazar did something to the handle, causing the door to pop open. “It’s unlocked.”

Nicaise breathed a sigh of relief as he dove into the car, locking the door behind him. Lazar meanwhile had kicked the plastic panel underneath the steering wheel off and was digging through the panels and wires with practiced ease.

“Don’t forget to lock the doors.” He murmured and Nicaise’s hand slammed the silver door lock down as deep as it would go.

“Anything else I should do?”

“Shut the fuck up and stay out of my way.” Lazar offered cheerfully. “Also, Elyas if you could cry in a C flat for a change of pace, I’d really appreciate it.”

Nicaise glared at him, irritated by his ability to be so light and easy in an emergency. But he pushed it down in favor of comforting Lyas. Finally in a semi-calm, unmoving spot, Lyas was more than happy to be comforted and pressed his hot, wet cheek against Nicaise’s collarbone. He sighed in contentment as Nicaise began to rock him back and forth.

For all of a moment, he was able to relax and forget that he was being hunted...

Nicaise screamed, half in terror, half in fury, as one of the would-be kidnappers punched one gloved fist through the passenger window. Glass fell in fat chunks around his flank and he shifted a screaming, crying Lyas to his left side so that he could kick at the reaching fingers with his sneakers. 

Lazar seemed remarkably unperturbed as he looked up.

“Excuse me, you wee bitch.”

With quick grace borne of practice, Lazar snatched up the crowbar he’d placed in the center console and brought it down with powerful accuracy. It caught the wrist bone and Nicaise swore he heard the bone shatter before the man outside started wailing in pain. 

It was so sudden that even Lyas fell silent, his eyes huge with surprise.

Lazar, unfazed, handed Nicaise the crowbar. “They reach for you again and you fuck em up, ok?”

Nicaise liked that. Laurent seemed to push him to think, to plan, to entrap a threat while Damen had always insisted Nicaise could just come to him in the face of danger, neither one wanting to foster violence in him. It almost seemed like they encouraged his helplessness. There was some cool pragmatic comfort in the action of just bashing someone’s fingers with an iron crowbar.

He shifted Lyas so that the backpack was firmly against his back and that he could wield the bar with both hands. 

“ _Little bitch_!”

Another man had caught up to his comrade and thrust his hand through the hole in the window. At least he had the good sense to reach for the lock in the door but that was about where his common sense ended.

“Dumb cunt!” Nicaise spat back and twisted the crowbar so that the claw end was facing down.

Even with his negligible strength, he felt the sharp edge dig through skin and delicate tendons and the fragile bones as Nicaise hit him squarely on the top of the hand. When the man shrieked and yanked his hand back, there was blood on the edges of the tip of the crowbar. 

Nicaise wondered why his therapist had never recommended this as a viable form of letting out his feelings. He had not felt so pleasantly exhilarated and in control of his surroundings in _ages_. 

“Nice shot!” Lazar said without looking up, a half-dozen wires clenched between his knuckles like colorful pipe cleaners.

Nicaise glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing some movement. “I know you’re probably having fun shoving those wires down your dickhole or whatever, but we’ve got a half a dozen assholes headed our way and these two are gonna recover and likely go for the back windows.”

Lyas was clearly disgusted with the chaos of the evening and snuggled his face into the backpack, ready to sleep no matter what hell was raging on around him.

“Half a dozen assholes? It’s my dream come true. And we’re live!” Lazar said as the car started with a roar that would have frightened Lyas if he could hear.

Lazar scrambled back up onto the driver’s and he jerked the gear shift over and then down without even glancing at the seatbelt. Nicaise dug his sneakers into the cigarette-burned carpet to brace himself as Lazar really turned the car loose. “Better duck.” 

Nicaise gritted his teeth, his body curving protectively around Lyas as the unmistakable sound of gunfire rattled through the empty streets. Luckily, Lazar was fishtailing, almost as if he was losing control of the car and Nicaise swore the car went up on two wheels as they rounded a corner. 

“Who in the actual _fuck_ taught you how to drive?”

“You’re about to meet him!” Lazar laughed, his hair whipping in the wind as they tore ass back towards the city center. 


	10. 9:00PM You Must Be Mr.Beef

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I am back from a much-needed 2-week break break where I wrote like a grand total of 2 pages for this story. So lazy.
> 
> But! I'm posting anyway with a hell of a chapter haha! I really love unleashing Lazar and Nicaise on people just trying to go about their night and in this case it's Pallas and his coworkers. Now, some important things to note is 1. Pallas has never met Damen and Laurent before in this story, 2. A lot of you guessed the strip club would feature Ancel. Well...it was a good guess but a wrong one haha! I personally like this EVEN MORE and I love stripper Ancel.
> 
> I should be back on my regular writing schedule after this week so I hope you enjoy ;)

Nicaise did not fully get out of his finely-honed fight-or-flight instinct until they were a good ten minutes from the apartment and Lazar noted that no one had been following them. Lyas was soothed by the purring motor of the car--Damen often bundled him up in the car seat and took him for slow car rides to get him to sleep; it was their _thing_...even though Damen had invited Nicaise every time--and had fallen asleep with a smile against Nicaise’s chest. Even so, Nicaise felt like his body was fracturing, his mind sinking into a dark mire in spite of how he tried to claw himself back to normalcy. 

He tried to breathe easily but the events of the past two hours kept hitting him over and over like the thrust of narrow hips. As always, he was plagued by memories as the lights of the Huître Quarter flashed past his eyes.

Nicaise suddenly had the desperate urge to run to Laurent.

Laurent had kindred moments when he seemed to be tearing at his own soul and he seemed to know when Nicaise was going through something similar. His cool, low voice could talk Nicaise up out of anything, especially after their first time bringing him to their house when--

_Laurent, beautiful Laurent, had reached out his arms and Nicaise swore again that he had never seen a man so beautiful in his life. When Nicaise had frozen outside the bedroom door and started to sink back into the fog of his mind, Laurent was there._

_Laurent knelt in front of him, subjugating himself so that he did not loom threateningly over Nicaise. And he murmured in his soft, cultured Veretian--a sound that Nicaise always, unwillingly, associated with safety--_

“Hey, hey. You ok?” The Veretian was the same but the lilt was a little deeper, a thicker patois than Laurent’s posh accent. “We’re all good.”

Nicaise looked over, bracing himself and met that glass-green stare. Words came slowly, “What…?”

“You’re safe. We’re safe now. Just breathe kid…Gods, you look like someone’s twisting your balls.”

Nicaise did not like the idea of anyone being close to his balls and crossed his legs tight. Suddenly the ‘kindness’ that Lazar had shown him throughout the night was forgotten and he had his dander up. His curls felt like they were sparking with electricity from the tips.

“Where are you taking us?” He asked, his voice shaking slightly.

The car slowed slightly and Lazar tapped his fingers against the wheel in a gentle rhythm that Nicaise followed with his breathing. “I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I never said that.” He might have _thought_ it but…

“ _Please_. If you weren’t afraid you’d be an idiot and I didn’t take you for an idiot. Also you still have the crowbar.” That was true, the solid iron a comforting, sturdy presence against his leg.

“I don’t think I trust you.”

“Likewise.” Lazar shot back almost immediately, pleased that they were on the same page. Nicaise was so irritated he momentarily forgot all about the darkness of his memories and his feelings of fear. He wanted to unsettle this bastard by any means necessary.

“I think you’re in over your head with this, you giant cunt.” He tried to make it sound as threatening as possible, a little difficult since his voice had yet to deepen. 

“I very sincerely doubt that. Now out with it, you little cunt. We’re Veretians and Veretians relax when they talk.” Even though Nicaise had not exactly been raised in Veretian culture, he did feel the instinct of it. Sometimes he was a little pleased to see that he and Laurent and Uncle Auguste and his ‘grandmother’ Hennike, who had given him about eight pairs of blue stones for his ears, shared similar mannerisms. And he did like that his mouth was as much a weapon as theirs. “Let’s start with how you ended up in my apartment being chased by men with guns. You steal that baby from them?”

“ _No_.” Nicaise was emphatic about that and kissed the top of Lyas’ head. “The opposite, actually.”

He debated for a moment whether or not to tell Lazar the details of his hellish evening; in the end, he simply thought that, fuck it, he was already in the car with this man and he still had the crowbar _and_ his therapist was always telling him to express himself in that annoyingly understanding tone of his.

What the hell.

He was tired and his arms were hot and tired from holding Lyas. Much like Damen, the baby seemed to radiate heat like a fucking blast furnace. Nicaise ran his hands through the curls and Lyas’ smiled at the feeling.

He did feel better talking things out.

He told Lazar their kidnapping, about waking up in the shitty apartment, and Nicaise’s daring escape and his gambit in trusting Lazar. What made things even easier was that Lazar was the type of listener that Nicaise appreciated. Damen, burning with energy, could not sit still for stories unless Laurent was the focal point of the plot and Laurent, when confronted with a story, asked eight thousand probing questions that drew things so wildly off topic that sometimes Nicaise ended on a different tale entirely.

Lazar on the other hand seemed content to listen with little more than exclamations at the wilder parts-- “You fucking _walked the ledge_? What an absolute terror you are,”--and a rare question when he felt that Nicaise was leaving out some important detail.

In any case, he was a satisfying audience and Nicaise waited to see his overall reaction. Using his free hand, Lazar ran his thumb over the dark scruff on his upper lip in a rhythmic rasp.

“So why you?” Lazar asked. “Why would these people kidnap you, out of nowhere?”

“Our--” _parents_ , they most certainly were not his parents; maybe to Lyas they would be but Nicaise had come too late, too sharp to the point that no one would love him like that. Hell, no matter how warm and pleasant it was to have Damen carefully untangle his curls or to have Laurent cook him good food or the feeling of having them so close and willing to stand guard if he was having nightmares and dark thoughts, he’d still freeze up or spit fire in the face of true tenderness. “Our guardians work for the National Defense Force. Specifically as Hunters.”

Hunters, the terror of illegal syndicates in Akielos and Vere, were the strongest, the most intelligent and--like their names--they hunted their targets without ceasing. Most of the people Nicaise knew from his newfound ‘family’ were associated with the Hunters somehow.

Lazar laughed, though it had a nervous edge that even _he_ couldn’t hide. “No shit?”

“Yep.” Nicaise wallowed in his amazement and fear. “Specifically they’re in the division that goes after the slave trade.” _They had explained that to him in the hospital, after he had terrorized the social worker who escaped his room with her hopes of placing him in a loving home dashed, and Nicaise saw that no one would ever mess with Damen, that he was as good a defense as a steel wall. And he had thought then that it might not be so bad to live with such powerful men behind him._ “They weren’t the type to fucking introduce themselves but...I have a _feeling_ that whoever broke into our house and took us to your shithole apartment complex did it to lure them out.”

“No wonder you’re a terrifying little bitch.” Lazar said, accepting the explanation without question. Nicaise was actually shocked because, in his general experience, most adults did not believe him when he said things.

“You think I’m terrifying?” He had always wanted to be terrifying, intimidating, so much so that no man would ever think about touching him. 

“Your mouth and connections are, which can be enough for some fights.” Lazar laughed with the ease of a man who’d had his share of fights and Nicaise could see him fighting quick and dirty, impossible to land more than a glancing blow. “But until you bulk the fuck up, you better be able to run fast.”

“You make a habit of running from fights?”

Nicaise could see that Lazar suffered a similar Veretian ‘problem’ of saying crude things the moment they came into his head, woe to anyone close who might take offense. “I generally suck the dicks of people I piss off. I’d rather have a sore throat than my teeth kicked in.”

“Disgusting.” Nicaise hissed, his slight feelings of camaraderie gone as quickly as they had come. 

“Gotta choose your defenses carefully.” Lazar shrugged. “So I recommend you learn how to fight.” 

Nicaise liked the idea of fighting but Lazar’s prior comment had left a bitter, burning ache in his chest. He wanted to unload everything, watch the man blush or whiten in shame and horror as he realized what his thoughtless statements could mean, the same way Damen and Laurent would. But there was a good chance that Lazar would not mind in the least, that someone so rough around the edges would be immune to any kind of brutality that the world could throw at a fourteen-year old boy.

And...a not insignificant part of him was ashamed.

It was a rare thing but he chose hot silence instead of a fierce rebuttal. Holding Lyas steady, he stared out the window and dreamed of fighting as one of the most frustrating men on earth drove him to safety in a stolen car.

“What the fuck is this place?” Nicaise asked with some trepidation. 

It certainly didn’t look like what he was imagining as a glitzy nightclub downtown. Instead it sat alone in the center of a parking lot between two brick apartment buildings like an afterthought; maybe an old bowling alley or a pawn shop that had been converted into a club. The only thing announcing it as a club was the sign in sparkling black and violet above the roof, labeling the place as ‘Black Ice’.

At least their car would not stick out amongst some of the shit heaps that were parked nearby.

“Classy.” Nicaise said, cradling Nicaise closer. “Be real with me: am I going to need any vaccines after setting foot in this shithole?”

“Maybe you should wait in the car? Can’t exactly lay low in a club with a brat and a baby.” Lazar asked, his smile positively wicked in a way that said he did not care if Nicaise joined him or not. For some reason it caused Nicaise’s blood to burn with the need to be contrary. 

“You’re not fucking leaving us in this car.”

“Suit yourself. Now move that skinny ass so I can lock up.” Nicaise was about to ask the purpose of locking up a car with the passenger side window entirely missing but he found he was rapidly becoming tired of asking bitchy questions, knowing he would only receive bitchy responses in return.

With no further argument, he slid the straps of the backpack over his shoulders and kissed Lyas’ little forehead before getting out of the car. 

He walked slowly on purpose, remaining a few steps behind so that he was half-shielded by Lazar’s lean body. He could feel the beat of the bass through the soles of his shoes as they approached the door though Nicaise came up short when he saw the massive Vaskian woman standing guard at the door, her arms bulging even while she was standing still. When she saw Nicaise, her eyes narrowed and swiveled to Lazar.

“Lazar, I know you’ve done some wild shit since I’ve known you but if you think I’m going to let you bring two babies into the club, then you are out of your goddamn mind.” She would most assuredly stop him; Nicaise had the feeling that trying to get past her would be as effective as running headlong into a brick wall. 

Lazar’s smile was devious, friendliness oozing off of him in honey thick waves. “ _Darling_ , you look as thick as semen in a peanut butter smoothie.”

“I’ll fucking kill you.” She said, deadpan and Nicaise had no doubt that she could. 

“We’re just here to pick up Baby Beef.” Lazar promised, sidling close in a way that made the woman’s mouth quirk up. “I may be a drug-dealing, silver-tongued, muscle-loving, green-eyed, slutty, Veretian son of a whore” she nodded emphatically along with every adjective, “but I’m not such a complete and utter reprobate that I’d bring a kid in to perform. Also he’s a righteous little blue-eyed bitch and I’d hate to leave you out here, unprotected against him.”

The woman appraised Nicaise and he glared back, forgetting for all of a split second how Lazar was dragging the both of them into his madness.

“Lazar--”

“He’s in _trouble_. Ten minutes is all I ask. And I’ll never bother you again.”

“I doubt that.” Nicaise said in Veretian and Lazar grinned wider at his cheek.

The bouncer looked at Nicaise. “You’re in trouble then? And not from this blithering bastard?” Kindred spirits, the both of them looked to Lazar as Nicaise contemplated whether or not to make Lazar’s life harder. Lyas snuggled in a little deeper into the backpack and the bouncer softened at the sight of his reddish curls. “Oh, what a sweet baby.”

Nicaise bit back his bitter words, feeling them settle in his throat like a stone. He wanted to see Lyas safe at home, asleep in his crib, and being a contrary little bitch was not going to help him get his brother to safety any faster. _Be responsible, be independent, be adultlike...for Lyas._ Despite the hell that raged naturally inside him, Nicaise spoke the reluctant truth.

“We want to go home.” He murmured, holding Lyas a little tighter. The truth, though hard to admit at first, began to flow out of him without pause. “I don’t have my phone and we don’t have a car but his Beef Boyfriend does.” He tried to make his voice as firm and adultlike as he could, given the circumstances, even though...the words were hot. “I want to go home...”

The woman sighed, stretching the very limits of her black T-shirt. “Ten minutes. Or I’ll come in and staple your lips together...save myself future trouble.”

“You know you love me too much for that.” Lazar laughed, entirely unrepentant and the woman slapped him firmly on the ass as he escorted Nicaise in. “Gods, you minx! Also...if any rough looking bastards should come and ask about two little boys--”

“Never seen the three of you in my life.” She finished lazily. 

Feeling a little better knowing that this amazon was barring the door, Nicaise followed Lazar into the dark violet of the entryway. They followed a short hallway into the main area and Nicaise nearly tripped over his own feet once his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness and sudden rush of music. 

“Oh, fuck off.” He hissed in disbelief.

It was not a nightclub, more the fool him. It was a strip club.

People lounged and cheered on low seats set in a semicircle around raised dancing platforms and colored lights caught the shimmer of the glitter that lay in a stubborn thin layer across every flat surface of the place. A DJ booth was set up in one corner of the place, a glossy bar in the exact opposite corner. No amount of cheap perfume and lemon-scented floor cleaner could ever truly mask the overpowering smell of sweat and arousal that clouded the place and Nicaise wrinkled his nose in disgust. Thank the gods there was a sharp high note of alcohol or Nicaise might have slipped back into those low-lit rooms of his childhood when men would slip out of the shadows and--

“Told you that you should have stayed in the car.” Lazar gloated. He must have mistaken Nicaise’s clenched jaw and wide, unblinking eyes for fear of the club itself and not his own hateful memories. In the careful, slow way he had learned from watching Laurent--it could only have come from Laurent, as Nicaise’s basic nature usually shirked anything slow or careful--he relaxed his jaw and shoulders and forced himself to blink before he spoke. He, unlike Laurent, did not have Damen massaging the back of his neck as assurance but the memories were beaten back into submission deep into his heart all the same. 

“You let me into your little drug den. Why would a strip club scare me?”

“I hardly let you in. As I recall, you and Elyas broke into my apartment.”

Nicaise hoisted the backpack filled with his sleeping brother a little higher, glad now for the earplugs. “True. They should live in terror of us.”

Lazar’s light eyes changed colors in accordance with the lights as he scanned the room. “No one here will fuck with _you_. Not if I have anything to say about it.” 

At first Nicaise took the flowery pronouncement as Lazar being as overprotective as Damen and Laurent and was about to say something he’d overheard Laurent say before, something very cutting. Until he noticed that the man’s expression was not set with protective determination but tinged with dreamy lust.

They would not fuck with Nicaise because, clearly when it came to being fucked, Lazar wanted to be first in line. 

“Are you planning to get your asshole stretched center stage?” His tone was tart, abhorred by the idea.

“It’s not a bad idea. But they generally frown on that here and the entire place will rally together to throw out people who break the rules.”

He was not wrong; the club seemed to have cornered a very unique niche. Every stripper inside, man or woman, was built like a brick shithouse. 

A Vaskian woman in a string bikini hefted a full tray of beers up with one hand, her massive thighs shimmering with violet glitter. Two men in with terrible approximations of ‘firefighter’ uniforms and melon-sized biceps spun around a pole that had to be reinforced steel welded into concrete in order to keep the two of them aloft. One table had a man with six shots set up firmly on his perfectly chiseled six-pack abdomen while another adjacent table had a Vaskian woman apparently being suffocated by the muscular tits of an Akielon woman who was probably Damen’s height with her heels on. A Veretian man--bulkier than Laurent but slender by this club’s standards--strutted by in a pair of shorts that would have been tight on Nicaise, the waistband spilling over with cash. 

Now he could see what Lazar meant by him being too small to be attractive.

Nicaise did not even realize that his mouth was slightly agape in disbelief until Lazar clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “You _sure_ you don’t want to wait in the car?”

He still had that same dopey look on his face that Damen did whenever Laurent ran his hands through his blond hair or wore those slim tailored trousers or sucked on ice or-- “ _Please_ . My,” Nicaise’s brow furrowed as he considered his constant problem: he wasn’t quite sure how to refer to Damen; most common titles made him feel disgusted or terrified over something he couldn’t quite name, “guardian could suplex all of these assholes. They don’t scare me.” They _did_ scare him but he was going to bluff his way through the night with bravado alone. “You let your boyfriend do this?”

“Listen here, you little dumbass,” Lazar smiled as he shook his head back and forth, “ _look_ at the size of these dancers. What in green fucking hell makes you think I’m physically possible of ‘letting’ him do anything?”

Nicaise raised his eyebrows. “I guess the bruised ribs make sense. Fuck, it’s probably on the pay-to-play menu here.”

“ _Right_?”

Lyas made a little noise of comfort as Nicaise swayed in time to the terrible music. “So which one of these beef cutlets are you fucking?”

“Wait a second.” Lazar said, his tongue caught lightly under one canine tooth, likely to keep him from salivating. He waited until the song was finished and the poorly-outfitted ‘firemen’ had started picking up the cash that had been thrown at them before cupping his hands over his mouth. In a moment of brilliant foresight, Nicaise placed his hands over Lyas’ ears and braced himself. “ _BABY BEEF_!”

Everyone whipped their head around at the noise and the DJ’s sigh was audible through the microphone. He sounded defeated so...clearly this wasn’t the first time Lazar had come to raise hell. 

“As you have probably heard, ladies and gentlemen...Lazar is here; Baby Beef if you could come out onto the floor, please.”

“Way to lay low.” Nicaise grumbled.

“There’s my baby.” 

It was clear who Lazar was talking about as the Akielon stripper ran across the main floor in paroxysms of hysterical laughter. Laughing was clearly a dangerous endeavor as it strained the fabric of the silver leotard that looked so tight, it may as well have been painted on. Aside from thigh-high silver boots and a generous layer of glitter, it was all he wore. He was probably around Laurent’s height but twice as bulky, his raven-colored hair braided in one wavy plait to the base of his neck. When he smiled, it had that same honest sweetness that Damen’s smile always had and Nicaise almost moved forward with Lyas on instinct. 

This man would be warm and solid, like Damen was, a firm protection from all external threats. His hug would be free and gentle and...Nicaise found that he _wanted_ to be held and comforted. He felt it so acutely, it was as if his heart was cracking with each beat.

 _I want to go home_.

Even though he often felt tense and angry for no goddamn reason when he saw Damen and Laurent curled up with Lyas on the couch, even though he spit fire and disgust when they asked him if he wanted to sit with them...now he wanted it desperately. How ironic that he had craved independence and freedom from getting lax and defenseless up until this exact moment. 

Now...he just wanted to melt into assured safety. 

_No._ He could not be weak or defenseless or childish. He had to square his shoulders and protect himself and Lyas.

“Lazar, you noisy bastard. What in the hell--” He noticed Nicaise glowering at him by Lazar’s side and he seemed to lose his train of thought. “I--”

“You must be Mr. Beef.”

“That would be me.” Lazar’s stripper boyfriend sighed and the seams strained on his leotard. Nicaise would bet his ass that this was not the craziest thing Lazar had ever done. “Please, call me Pallas.”


	11. 10:00PM Touch Him and Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to paint a picture of my last 7 days of life: I wake up, go to work, jog after work, and then play Zelda: Breath of the Wild until 2 AM. That is currently my life. My eyes are bloodshot, head spinning, no brakes on this train. I'm a hot mess. It's honestly a miracle I remembered to post this update.
> 
> Anyway forgive me if these notes are a little incoherent. We're still in the strip club because I love the idea so much haha and for those of you who have guessed, you are correct about a certain someone being the certain driver that gave Jord and Nik hell haha! Also Nicaise is true new gen, in that he's so reliant on his cellphone having the info stored that he doesn't have any numbers memorized. Oops! Poor lil guy, he's having a rough time of it, though Pallas is understanding.
> 
> That's all I really have for today so I'm going to go back to the cruel, cruel mistress that is Zelda and leave you guys with this new chapter for the week! Enjoy!

Nicaise was in a state of minor shock, as were a handful of customers in the Black Ice Strip Club. 

Lyas, despite having no muscles, money, or glitter, had suddenly become the most popular person inside.

The DJ had started playing soft music that was light on bass in order to keep him from waking, the colored lights set to a mellow blue-violet that did not flash. The dance platforms had been abandoned so that the workers could crowd around in an impenetrable wall of meat and fuss over the sleeping baby. Currently he was tucked onto the massive bicep of a woman from Bazal who was singing to him in low Patran as she rocked him. 

Even though he watched carefully, Nicaise didn’t mind so much. He trusted women ten thousand times more than men, even these strange, beefy strippers, and he wouldn’t deny them lavishing their tender love on Lyas. Sometimes he looked at women holding their babies and wondered what it felt like to be cradled and protected so securely. It was...stupid really. 

Everyone knew Lazar, clapping him on the shoulder with enough strength to make him stumble as they asked him how in the hell he had managed to give Pallas two children in a single night. Upon hearing whatever wild story Lazar had come up with on the spot to explain why he had decided to escort Nicase and Lyas across the city, many of them came up to Nicaise and--much to his alarm--began to compliment him profusely.

He had never been good with compliments on his appearance, but it didn’t seem to occur to these strippers.

“You did such a good job taking care of him.” The lady holding Lyas said. “He wouldn’t sleep so well if he was nervous or scared.”

“He must love his big brother.”

“You even have the same curls.” Nicaise did glow a little at that compliment. Though they weren’t related by blood, he’d take the ties to Lyas that he could get. “Gods, I’d kill for hair like this.”

“How much further do y’all have left to go?” Asked one of the men, dressed as the world’s most muscular bunny, “If you don’t have supplies, you ought to stop at some sort of corner store to get food and diapers and shit. Don’t want to ruin this,” he looked sourly at the borrowed backpack Nicaise was using as a carrier, “thing with a baby accident.”

“I think a layer of shit would vastly improve it.” Nicaise said errantly and the stripper snickered. 

“Naila just had a baby so she always has supplies in her bag.” One stripper said as she readjusted her fringed bikini top. “I’m sure she has some diapers that she can lend you for the night.”

“Probably some milk as well.” Lazar suggested. “Too bad you don’t have any to spare, Naila.”

A stripper with breasts as massive as a Vaskian warrior goddess turned back from where she had been walking to the back room and fixed Lazar with a wry glare. “I will  _ literally _ kill you.”

Lazar was unrepentant. “You all keep threatening me with a good time and never follow through. You all are leading me on.” It seemed that the man had decided he wanted to die crushed by someone muscular and pissed off, and was doing all he could to expedite the process. 

“Fuck’s sake Lazar,” the bunny said, “someone get him a drink to suck on until Pallas comes back and can whip his dick out.” The place erupted into chaos over the comment as Nicaise watched it all in disbelief.

It seemed most of them forgot his existence until he caught movement in his peripheral, coming from the bar.

“Speaking of drinking, would you like some juice?” One of the strippers extended boxes--unopened, to his relief--of fruit juice towards him. “We have orange, cranberry, and fruit punch. Use ‘em for mixing alcohol.”

Normally Nicaise would have fixed her with a solid, silent glare before asking something cutting, perhaps if there was alcohol included. But he realized that he was thirsty, parched, and his adrenaline was pushing it to the wayside in favor of more pressing concerns. Date rape drugs had always made his mouth dry.

Alcohol or not, he wanted something to drink or he would go insane. Drinking something would make him feel human.

“Can I have all of them?”

The stripper handed her stash over silently and watched with a slight grin as Nicaise tore into them. He started with cranberry, arguably the shittiest flavor on tap, and dismissed the straw entirely in favor of just pressing the box to his lips and chugging straight from the hole. He barely tasted it.

As he sipped the fruit punch a little more slowly, he thought of how an etiquette teacher would faint dead away at his method of drinking, with sticky lines of juice running down his chin and neck. 

Laurent had taken him once to etiquette lessons early on, smiling demurely as he showed off his perfect, royal table manners while Nicaise wreaked havoc. He had not been chastised once for his horrible behavior; Laurent had actually started laughing once they were one their way home.

_ “Why did you even bring me to that stupid fucking place? Are you trying to  _ tame  _ me? _ ” Nicaise had almost been crouched, feral, in the passenger seat, with sugar crystals still under his fingernails. He hated the idea of more people trying to bring him to heel.

“ _ I hate that place too. Sanctimonious bastards. When I was younger I wanted to raise hell. _ ” Laurent had shrugged, his eyes bright with some inner energy Nicaise couldn’t place. “ _ I hated being trained by--no. In any case, it was well worth it _ .”

“ _ You’re an  _ adult  _ though. You can do whatever the hell you want _ .”

“ _ The habits are ingrained. You’ll understand someday. _ “

“ _ So you knew I’d fuck them up! _ ” Laurent  _ always _ knew, somehow. It was beyond irritating and Nicaise had settled into the seat in a surly rage. “ _ Why even bring me in the first place? _ ”

“ _ Because I like spending time with you. _ ” __

That was a lie. No one liked to spend time with him unless he  _ gave _ them something.

Nicaise sipped the orange juice slowly, feeling more like himself as the sugar hit his stomach. It would be nice to have Laurent here, Laurent who knew exactly what to do in any situation. Likely he would suggest that Damen get into a string bikini and strip.

Nicaise jolted as something hit him lightly on the chin. “Bitch!” 

He had just enough time to realize that it was a cheap kiddie-sized pack of peanuts before a package of pretzels hit him on the nose. It did not take long to discover the culprit as he caught Lazar, his arm coiled back to toss a plastic package of biscuits. Nicaise snagged them out of the air.

“Nice catch, wee bitch.”

“Shit throw.” Nicaise spat back. “With an aim like that you better hold your dick steady or you’ll piss in your own face.”

Lazar raised one eyebrow and Nicaise saw that glint in his eye that was distinctly Veretian. It was the look of someone deciding whether or not to truly start a fight. “Well at least it’s good to see you’re no longer in shock. Got your bite back.”

Nicaise realized that Lazar was right, that he had still been in a state of minor shock, and he did not care for the observation at all. 

He did not like that he could be so easily read. It was a clear weakness to exploit and Nicaise hardly trusted men he’d known for years with such a skill, much less a man he’d only known a single night.

“He bothering you, honey?” The stripper who’d given him juice was eyeing Lazar with casual, fond irritation. Clearly she was used to his antics and Nicaise calculated quickly.

He looked up at her, eyes wide, before dropping his head and making his shoulders hitch with practiced ease. “Yes. It h-hurt me.” His eyes were dry as a bone but the giant strippers around him couldn’t see that. Nicaise grinned in wicked glee as he heard Lazar yelp his protests when the women descended on him like a pack of furious lionesses.

“Little bastard--! No, no, Theophilia these things weigh less than one nut hair; it wouldn’t  _ hurt _ \--ow! Ow! Fucking--we didn’t set up a safe word, darling! Fatima!  _ Fatima _ , he’s  _ faking _ , I swear to the gods! The little shit is  _ faking _ !”

Though he knew he should keep up the charade, he was unable to resist sneaking a glance and it did not disappoint.

Lazar was in a headlock, sheepishly pretending to struggle, as three other women berated him in the loving way that older sisters hounded their younger brothers on TV shows. The sugar rush of the juice combined with the glittery stripper outfits made it so comical that Nicaise was unable to help himself and started laughing. It was rare that he laughed aloud in public and he let the feeling sweep over him for about fifteen seconds before getting control over himself. Lazar had extricated himself in the meantime and did not seem at all put out by the rough treatment and even dumped a few packets of candy on Nicaise’s lap as he passed.

“Try not to burn the place down, you wee bitch. I’m going to go check on Pallas. See if he needs help undressing.”

“Gross.” 

Even though he spit fire, Nicaise did feel unsettled without having Lazar within eyesight. In the back of his mind, he knew the strippers would not allow any harm to come to him but... He felt his shoulders tense up in preparation for some unspoken assault and he scarcely allowed himself to blink as he followed Lyas with his eyes, lest his brother disappear in the split second his eyes were closed. 

He was right to keep his guard up, catching the movement early on.

The man was stumbling as if drunk, but his eyes were clear and alarmingly alert as he sat on the chair closest to Nicaise. Nicaise, with his finely honed instincts, felt the threat ripple through the air like an electric pulse, his body tense in preparation for whatever might happen. He leaned as far away as he could from the man, almost draping himself across the arm of his chair.

He could not explain why. But he trusted himself like small prey animals learned to stand still for no damn reason as they walked through unfamiliar plains. 

Nicaise flicked his eyes around to the other adults in the room as a force of habit to see if they also noticed the threat. Most adults were generally oblivious but Laurent had always been surprisingly good at seeing danger. He felt the heat of breath before the words reached him and he shuddered.

“These curls natural?”

The touch was light, fingertips on the very last inches of one spiral but Nicaise felt it as acutely as if the man had gripped a handful of his hair. Errantly he wondered if he gave off some kind of signal, a smell or a look, that brought hungry eyes and wandering hands out of the fucking woodwork.

“Are you listening?”

The first time someone had tried to entice him away in public when Nicaise was twelve, Damen had been there and chased the bastard away. Nicaise remembered Damen’s promise--that he would methodically break each and every rib of any man who touched Nicaise in a way that frightened him--and wished that Damen was there with him. It certainly was a far cry from where he had started the evening, wanting Damen and Laurent as far from him as possible.

There was a crash and a yelp that startled Nicaise out of his stupor and he saw those green eyes fired up with a successful fight picked, even though Lazar was completely still. 

It was clear enough to see what had happened: the ‘drunk’ patron had been leaning in his chair to get closer to Nicaise and Lazar had simply given the chair a push, sending both the chair and the man crashing to the floor. Everyone else in the club simply gave Lazar a cursory glance and shrugged, accepting it as a matter of course.

“What the hell, man?”

“Touch him and die.” Lazar shrugged as if it did not concern him in the least, though his smile was sharp. “He’s mean with a crowbar.”

The man might have challenged Lazar to a fight, if Pallas hadn’t come a few moments later, beaming like the sun as his street clothes strained at the seams. The only man who could beat him in a physical fight would be Damen and even then it would be a close fight. The man who had been trying to speak to Nicaise clearly came to the same conclusion and could not scurry away fast enough. 

“Friend of yours?” Pallas asked.

“Some little bitch. You got the phone, baby?”

“I do!” Pallas proudly presented the phone for Nicaise to take. “You can call your parents and they can pick you up here or I can drive you to wherever they are.”

Nicaise looked at the phone screen, the intimidating number pad and suddenly felt a visceral drop in his stomach. He had the phone in front of him, Damen and Laurent right at his fingertips, and he realized that he did not have their cell phone numbers memorized. He was reliant on that list of numbers that Laurent had left for him and his phone had their numbers already included so he had never felt the need to memorize them. Safety was so close and yet it slipped through his fingers, reminding him that hope was a lying, useless thing...

There was a lump in his throat like someone had punched him in the neck and he blinked rapidly. He refused to cry in front of all of these people...as much as he wanted to.

When he cried it was--

_ Some people liked it. Liked when he cried, liked when he was in pain or embarrassed. He didn’t want  _ anyone _ to see and have their eyes light up with indecent hunger _ . 

“You ok, sweet pea?” Pallas asked as he crouched down, perhaps to see if Nicaise needed help with the phone, as if he wasn’t young and clever enough to figure it out himself. Nicaise normally would have remarked that he was more deadly night’s shade than sweet pea but he felt that the tears would come if he did anything more intense than breathing. Home was so close and yet he was so useless, so irresponsible and childish that he couldn’t bridge that final gap… “It’s ok, Nicaise. They won’t be mad. They won’t be upset.”

Nicaise felt the sudden urge to press himself into Pallas’ wide chest and let the man hug the tears out of him until he was wrung dry. No wonder Lazar liked him so much; even as big and bulky as he was, he was so sweet that it offset any potential fear Nicaise might have had. 

Something wet hit his hand and Nicaise used the sleeve of his shirt to hastily wipe up the renegade tear that had slipped out in spite of his best efforts. There were a few speckles on the phone screen and he mopped those up as well before anyone noticed. 

“Do you know their phone numbers?” Lazar asked, almost at a whisper. He did not even glance at Nicaise. Though those green eyes avoided him, there was no mocking in Lazar’s tone. Even if life was mostly a joke to him, it seemed that Lazar had some tact after all.

Nicaise pressed one forearm hard against his eyes hoping that the pressure would keep him from bawling like a kid. “I...I don’t.” He hated his voice, his shaky, soft, unbroken voice, a boy’s voice. 

There was a moment of silence when Pallas and Lazar did not seem to know what to say before Nicaise felt a gentle pat on his head. With the heat coming off of the palm, it could only belong to Pallas. “It’s ok, sweet pea. Lazar and I will figure something out, ok?”

“Forgive me if I’m not thrilled over the combined cunning of a drug dealer and a stripper.”

“See, I told you he’d be fine.” Lazar laughed. “He’s savvy. So what did you have in mind?”

“We could always go back to the house first.” Pallas said. “Maybe they’ve come back if the people who snatched you made contact.”

“And I could get my phone.” Nicaise agreed. “Their numbers are on there. But...what if people are still there?” That, for him, was the worst case scenario. He would rather stay in the relative safety of the strip club than to see violent men in his house.

“We could always go to the City Guard.” Pallas amended. “Plan B?”

“I’ll have to wait in the car,” Lazar laughed. “City Guard isn’t exactly fond of  _ éprouvettes _ .” 

“Excellent point. Maybe bypass the City Guard and contact my other boss. Call in one of those dozen favors he owes me.”

“Sexual favors or regular ones?” Nicaise asked before he could catch himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn’t be so sharp with someone so selflessly helpful, but he couldn’t fight his own nature.

“If it’s sexual, I want in. Your other boss is hot.”

“So it’s decided then. Let’s go back to the house first.” Pallas said, ignoring them both. “Best case scenario, the place is empty and Lazar can run in to get your phone.” Nicaise was glad for Pallas volunteering Lazar; he knew he would be on edge alone in the house, but god forbid it was still dark inside. He would never be able to do it. “We’ll stay with you until your parents show up.”

“They’re not my parents.”

“They found Nicaise in a dumpster.” Lazar lied as an addendum. Nicaise sputtered but Pallas seemed to accept it as a matter of course and ignored his lover.

“In any case, if anyone is still there, we can drive away and I’ll call my other boss to get an assist.”

“Pallas moonlights as a getaway driver.” Lazar’s voice was thick with pride over this bit of information. “With him behind the wheel, no one can catch us.”

_ And he and Lyas would get to go home _ . “Sounds great to me.”

“Awesome. Let’s grab the baby and get the hell out of here.” Lazar said cheerfully. Then he slapped Pallas on the ass. 

The entire club came out to see them off, the bouncer giving Lazar a lukewarm warning about staying past the deadline she had established.

Lyas was nestled comfortably against Nicaise’s chest again, and the strippers were as good as their word. He had a bottle full of milk, an extra diaper and more little packets of snacks for the ride. In a way he was more comfortable with this group than he was with Damen and Laurent; whether they knew it or not, he had a grudging respect and understanding for them.

“Take care, babies.”

“If Lazar causes trouble, just pretend you don’t know who he is.” Naila advised. 

“Hey!”

“Drinks are on the house for you when you’re of age.” The bunny stripper said kindly to Nicaise. “No need to use your babysitting money.”

“Oh, here’s Pallas.”

“ _ Fuck me _ .” Nicaise groaned, seeing what they were exchanging the stolen sports car for.

It was almost laughable looking at Pallas and Lazar’s normal vehicle. Only a little bit bigger than a roller skate, Pallas looked like he would make the car split at the seams if he so much as sneezed.

“Ready?” Pallas asked, his forearms bulging from where he lightly gripped the steering wheel.

“What’s the point of being an  _ éprouvette  _ if you’re driving around in this piece of shit?” Nicaise asked. He was under the impression that  _ éprouvettes _ and strippers made decent money. Good ones anyway. “If he’s your sugar daddy, Beef Curtains, then you might want to re-evaluate your life choices.”

“He says it’s hard to call someone that he can benchpress ‘daddy’.” Lazar said in faux sadness as Pallas rolled his eyes. 

“Trust me, this car is perfect.” Pallas said, ignoring Lazar’s complaint entirely. “We put all the car budget into the engine and the wheels. Not even the gods could catch me in this thing so I have zero complaints.”

“It must be hard to fuck in the backseat of this machine.” Nicaise said sourly once he thought of an appropriate criticism.

“You have  _ no _ idea,” Lazar sighed in mock disappointment as he made for the passenger seat, “Like trying to have a duel inside of a department store broom closet. Don’t worry though, the backseat has been thoroughly disinfected.” He laughed at the face Nicaise made. 

In spite of the fact that their car matched their apartment--shitty--Nicaise slid into the back without any further complaint. He had food and diapers for Lyas, access to a working phone, and the bare bones of a plan at the very least. And even though the last time in his house had been a waking nightmare, it could not overwrite years of comfort. 

Pallas revved the engine threateningly as the Nicaise buckled his seatbelt and strapped Lyas a little tighter across his chest. He remembered the carseat Laurent had bought Lyas for the family car, the thing seeming as expensive and technologically advanced as the seat in a rocketship. Nicaise’s skinny body seemed woefully unsafe in comparison and he dug his heels into the worn floor mat in preparation for Pallas to let loose. 

Lyas stirred slightly, perhaps unnerved by the rapid pulse of Nicaise’s heartbeat as Pallas shifted into gear.

“Let’s go!”


	12. 11:00PM Shit Fucking-Ass Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Say hello to another one of my favorite chapters!
> 
> This one has a little bit of everything including (with the goose bit) proof that this group of 4 has one braincell and Lyas is asleep with it. Also I was listening to 'Rasputin' while typing this so...that what I imagine is playing on the radio. Also kudos to everyone who figured out that Pallas is the one who lost Nik and Jord (their fault for wearing their work gear in the house); I hope you all feel vindicated.
> 
> In other news, if you are not on the Capri discord, you won't know that for the past 3 weeks I have been drowning in Zelda: Breath of the Wild, to the exclusion of all other activities save eating, sleeping, working, and basic hygiene. So I apologize to all you lovely readers but I can't guarantee when chapter 13 will be out. You all know I hate to leave stories unfinished though, so hopefully it will be a brief hiatus.
> 
> Enjoy!

Nicaise still felt fairly good as Pallas pulled onto the outer belt around the city after Nicaise had given him directions. It had only been a few hours but he had managed to unwillingly cram a full year’s worth of excitement into that time. 

Now he just wanted to sleep. 

With Lyas broiling his front, Nicaise rested his head against the cool windowpane to even out his body temperature as he listened to Lazar try to flirt with his stone slab of a boyfriend. “Gods, I love the way you look in glitter but fucking with it on is like rubbing my dick in a sandcastle.”

“As always, you’re such a poet.” Pallas sighed. Even though he acted chagrined, Nicaise could tell Pallas liked it. “And Nicaise is right there in the back.”

“He’s Veretian, Pallas. He knows what a dick is.” Oh, they didn’t know the half of it. “I’d hazard a guess that he has one. Hell, you’ve heard the mouth on him. I’m sure he’s been  _ called  _ a ‘dick’ on multiple occasions.”

“Keep talking about my dick, you creep bastard.” Nicaise murmured. “I’ve got a crowbar with your name on it back here.”

“You’re a little bitch is what you are.” Lazar shot back.

“I will pull this car over, so help me gods.”

“Nothing like a highway fight to stay under the radar.” Lazar laughed but he didn’t needle Nicaise any further at the risk of Pallas actually following through with his threat. It would have to be a draw between them, for now.

Nicaise leaned his head against the window again and let his eyes rest. It was several minutes before Pallas spoke again.

“So...want to tell me what’s really going on then?” Pallas asked Lazar at barely above a whisper. Clearly he was under the impression that Nicaise was asleep and Nicaise was ready to take full advantage of that assumption for the second time that night.

“Oh you know...just trying to take a shit and a smoke in peace and come out to find a teenager and a baby broke into our apartment. Classic tale.”

“ _ Is it _ ?” Pallas laughed.

“Somebody kidnapped ‘em.” Lazar said once he and Pallas had both sobered a little. “Doesn’t know who but they sound rough.”

“But...why a boy and a little baby?”

“The baby is a wanted war criminal and--”

“ _ Lazar _ .”

“Something about their parents. Or guardians, whatever you want to call them. Anyways the kid busted himself out, walked the ledge,” Pallas inhaled sharply, “climbed down that shitty fire escape and came in through the apartment window. Certainly was hard to turn him away after all that.”

Pallas’ tone was fond. “You wouldn’t have even if he had taken the easy way down.”

“Also called me a ‘drug-riddled motherfucker’ first thing so...inclined to like him for that.”

“Sounds like you as a kid.” 

Nicaise drew the line with that comparison. “If I turn out like him as an adult, I hope someone throws me into a fucking psych ward.” Pallas jolted a little as Nicaise spoke but Lazar grinned lazily, as if he had known that Nicaise was awake all along. 

“One can only hope. How was your nap?” and Nicaise mouthed ‘fuck off’ to Lazar by way of response. “Baby Beef, are we getting close?”

“About seven or eight minutes.” Pallas said. “Our exit is coming up over here.”

“Oooh, fancy bitches.” Lazar said after reading the sign. Nicaise could not tell if he was lightly teasing or subtly mocking Nicaise for being a rich little snob.

_ He didn’t know. He didn’t know that Nicaise had experienced abject poverty. That he knew hunger and pain and-- _

Nicaise’s heart was in his throat the closer they came to his house. He felt at ease the moment he recognized the streets close to his home and he hoped that Laurent and Damen’s overprotective natures had kicked in. Maybe they had noticed his lack of text response and come home to check on him.

“Turn right here and then it’s the third one down on the left.” Nicaise instructed. He gently cupped Lyas’ head, wanting to assure his brother that they were almost home. 

But he was pragmatic and would not make empty promises. He  _ hated _ people who made empty promises. 

“Gods alive.” Lazar whistled. “Nice fucking house.”

The house looked stately and inviting in the dark of the streets, with all the lights on. It glowed warm and soft as new honey and Nicaise’s chest ached with the need to run inside to his bedroom and lock the door. Not even Laurent and Damen would bother him when his door was locked. 

They all remained steady and silent in the car, just looking at the peaceful mansion.

“So how do we get in?” Pallas asked. “Is it a keypad or will we need to do some creative breaking and entering?”

“Rock through the window?” Lazar offered.

“Only if you want that rock jammed up your dickhole.” Nicaise spat back. 

For anyone else’s home, that would be his first course of action but he thought of how irritated Laurent would be about a smashed window. Yet another strike against Nicaise for being a destructive force of nature and a further reason that Damen and Laurent could kick him out in the future. Dark thoughts that swirled in his mind as Pallas and Lazar plotted their mayhem. 

He was the first to notice movement in the windows and fear washed over him like the water of an ice-cold motel shower.

There were figures in black, set stark against the warm lights, as they stalked through the house. Nicaise could not see their faces but he could tell that they were dressed in black and that there were guns strapped to their backs. On instinct, Nicaise wrapped his arms around Lyas’ fuzzy head to protect him from harm and shrank back into the seat of the car. Unable to help himself, he made a noise in the back of his throat, similar to the sound feral cats made before they began to hiss and spit.

Pallas and Lazar both turned back to look at him and then followed his gaze back up to the house. Pallas hissed through his teeth, starting up the car immediately and Lazar laughed, though it was brittle and sharp.

“Ah shit. Looks like we’re on to Plan B then?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Nicaise chanted in a steady monotone, hoping that it would hide his desperation. There was something uniquely terrible about being outside his house and seeing violent strangers inside. He wanted to be as far away from this place as he could be.

“Loud and clear, love.”

Nicaise almost shrank down onto the floor of the car, keeping Lyas completely obscured from view as Pallas slowly put the car into reverse. “Slow down there, speed demon.” Lazar said as they pulled out slowly into the street.

“We’re trying to be incognito.” Pallas responded, clearly through clenched teeth. “If we go tearing ass down this street then they’ll know we’re suspicious.”

“Bit too late for that, Baby Beef.”

Alarmed at the implication, Nicaise popped his head back up to look out the window and then his stomach dropped to the soles of his shoes.

The men inside were clearly looking at their car. Frozen at the massive windows, they watched as Pallas threw the car into drive and one of them pointed in Nicaise’s general direction. It was enough. 

“Please  _ go _ !” Nicaise cried, his fear so great that he didn’t even care that he sounded like a scared little boy.

“I’m going!” Pallas promised as he shifted gears and laid on the gas. “Don’t worry, sweet pea. We’re not going to let anyone get you.” As soon as he turned the corner, Pallas turned off the headlights of the car so that they were tearing through the neighborhood blind.

“We in the clear?” Lazar asked, his eyes glued to the mirrors.

“Too early to say,” Pallas said through clenched teeth, “I’ll try to get us into the city limits. Easier to lose us in the crowd and it’s harder to cause a scene in public. Just give me a second.”

Nicaise felt as though he did not take a new breath until they had reached the bright inner city limits and Lazar settled cautiously back into his seat. Pallas did not relax so Nicaise did not move Lyas from where he was half-shielded by Nicaise’s body. Despite how much he despised the thoughts that came from Lazar’s mouth, Nicaise found that he did not like the silence at all. 

“Is it--”

“There’s someone behind us.” Pallas said easily although Nicaise had not even the man so much as glance at the rearview mirror. “We’re being tailed so...if your seatbelts aren’t buckled, I recommend you buckle them in the next five seconds.” 

Clearly the warning was meant for Lazar and Nicaise hazarded a glance as the man fumbled with the belt.

He had never been in a car chase before but his finely-honed prey instincts did not fail him even on the road. He knew well enough when he was being pursued and spotted the car almost immediately. 

It was some sort of sleek black sedan--like the kind Jord and Nikandros drove for work--pursuing them as smooth and steady as a shark. It weaved in and out of traffic, going fast but keeping a steady enough distance that they could react to Pallas’ decisions. He had never felt any specific way about cars before but this one seemed ominous.

“You better be as good as you say you are.” 

Pallas glanced back at him to smile, Nicaise feeling a drop in his stomach at seeing his eyes off of the road. “I’m  _ better _ .”

Lazar clicked his seatbelt into place and slapped the dashboard the same way that Auguste would slap the massive ass of his thoroughbred horse to get it to move. “Show ‘em what you’re made of, baby.”

Lazar had not exaggerated about Pallas’ skill behind the wheel.

Damen and Laurent were both very careful drivers, but Nicaise had always had a feeling that Laurent wanted to drive fast and would do so at the slightest provocation from anyone other than Nicaise. Auguste and his ‘grandmother’ Hennike both used chauffeurs, so Nicaise was not used to offensive driving. And that was exactly what Pallas was doing. 

Though one hand was shifting gears, leaving him only one to steer, he was as relaxed as if the three of them were going for a Sunday drive through the countryside. He was clearly allergic to braking and when they did encounter a red light, he either breezed through it or simply drove up on the sidewalk.

Nicaise could see now--through eyes that were almost crushed shut--why having a smaller car had its benefits. 

The sedan whipped after them, fishtailing slightly as other cars screeched out of their way to avoid being hit. Then Nicaise had to stop looking because Pallas’ next turn nearly had him smacking his head into the window. Using the worst curses he knew, Nicaise starfished his limbs to keep himself and Lyas from bouncing around the car like pinballs.

“How apropos!” Lazar laughed when he heard Nicaise swear. 

“Will you help me out, love?” Pallas asked as he whipped the wheel around until the whole car shook. They seemed to drift around the corner on two wheels.

“Oh! Sure thing.” Lazar’s idea of ‘help’ was to turn the radio to almost full blast, some sort of disco swing song playing jauntily as Pallas ran another red light to a chorus of angry honks. 

“Are you fucking  _ serious _ ?” Nicaise yelped as he dug his sneakers into the floor to brace himself.

“Thank you.” Pallas sighed.

“What? I love this song.” Lazar responded, ignoring the twin withering glares Nicaise and Pallas sent him. “You just need to outrun them. They’re not going to do anything too wild. Hell, they haven’t even shot at us, much less the tires...which is what I would have done.”

Nicaise was amazed Lyas was still sleeping, even after Pallas swerved liberally between four lanes of traffic. 

“Why aren’t they shooting?” He hissed, fury compensating for the fear he felt. 

“Because they need you alive.” Curse the man’s good sense. “Can’t risk losing the golden golden goose and the--” He frowned slightly as he looked at Lyas’ head, “Gooseling? Gooselet?  _ Fuck _ , Baby Beef, what’s a baby goose called?”

There was a long moment of silence when all three of them seemed to realize that they were too stupid to remember what a baby goose was called. Nicaise had been through some fucked up situations before he hit eleven but he had never been in such a surreal situation in his life.

“Not important!” Pallas said, flying into a U-turn so quickly that Nicaise felt his kidneys slam against his flank.

“ _ Anyway _ , if the kids get shot, they’ll have lost their bargaining chip and are most assuredly going to die. At least if they’re both alive they’ll still die but for a bit they’ll have your guardians by the balls, so to speak.”

“See you  _ say  _ that but…” If anyone got too close to Laurent’s balls, they would find their own dick knotted into a pretzel, courtesy of Damen.

“It’s not going to happen.” Pallas insisted. “Nobody is getting shot, no one is getting kidnapped again, and no one’s balls are getting grabbed. Hold on tight, you mouthy little Veretians.”

He took a tiny one-way street--going the wrong way--the car almost losing one rearview mirror in his haste, and then flew around another corner the moment they exited the alley. It was a risky maneuver but Pallas was so skilled that it paid off in the long run.

There was a sharp metallic screech, like pure machine torture, and Nicaise whipped his head around to look out the back window. He spoke from the heart, “ _ Shit fucking-ass bitch _ ! They crashed! They fucking  _ crashed _ !” 

Before Pallas could put enough distance between them, Nicaise saw the lightly smoking wreck of the sleek sedan. While Pallas’ tiny car had cleared the corner, their pursuers had clipped the side and spun, leaving twin black curlicues of rubber on the street, before stopping against a fire hydrant. The car’s body was crinkled like a sheet of aluminum foil.

Lazar whooped out the open window and even Nicaise felt laughter come, shaky and delighted.

“What’d you think?” Lazar turned back to him. “Told you they wouldn’t get to you on our watch.”

“I’d like for you to teach me how to drive.” Nicaise said when he felt he could speak without biting his tongue.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. They were close enough that they might have gotten the make and model of the car. If they’re as good as you think they are then it’s likely they’ll run it through some sort of system and start looking for us. I should call my boss and see if we can fly under the radar somewhere. Hide the car and everything.”

“You think they could trace you just based on the type of car?” 

“They might have gotten our plates as well,” Pallas said, tempering their joy. “Hell, they might be able to trace us through traffic cams. What we need is to lead them astray. I’ll drop you guys off somewhere safe and lead them in circles around the city.” Lazar looked at him, his smile uneasy.

“You gonna be ok, Baby Beef?”

It had not occurred to Nicaise that Pallas would be putting himself in harm’s way by offering, and he felt a twinge of something like guilt just below his breastbone.  _ If someone  _ died _ because he was so inept, and helpless, and useless _ …

“The toughest part is going to be catching me.” Pallas said with such easy confidence that Nicaise felt a little better. But only a little…

“You better be ok.” He hissed. “My babysitting rates won’t cover much of a funeral.”

“Thoughtful, isn’t he?” Lazar added.

Pallas, as usual, ignored their banter in favor of actually being useful. “Will one of you  _ please  _ suggest a safe place to drop off? The adrenaline has me drawing blanks here.”

“Take us to Shel’s place.” Lazar suggested. “Those Vaskians love a bit of chaos and they like me well enough.”

“Didn’t her mother threaten to actually kill you if she saw you again?” Pallas asked lightly.

“A lot of people seem to be saying that,” Nicaise said, “but no one seems to have the balls to follow through.” He was beginning to understand the sentiment of almost every person they had met that evening. 

“Fuck, it’s your funeral.” Pallas groaned, whipping the car sharply left.

Lazar turned around to wink at Nicaise. “Two funerals on the line, so you better take on some more babysitting gigs.”

“You’ll be lucky if I even get paid for this one. After all this shit I--” Once again he was struck with fear over what Laurent would say after Lyas had been kidnapped on his watch. He wondered...if it would finally be the straw that broke Damen and Laurent’s backs before they sent him out of their house, back into the system. His fists clenched in the fabric of the backpack.

“Hey.” Nicaise was yanked out of his thoughts by Veretian, though it was thicker and less posh than the accents he was used to. Lazar was smiling at him again, “You’ve done a good job so far. All in one piece, which is kind of the goal of babysitting yeah? Just sit tight.”

“I don’t think I asked you,” Nicaise said because he was unable to help himself.

“You’re going to have bigger problems than me pretty soon.” Lazar laughed, somehow pleased by the response.

“The fuck do you mean?”

“We have company again.” Lazar said. Pallas perked up, looking in the rearview mirror for pursuers but Lazar glanced down towards Nicaise’s body. For some reason the look did not alarm him; after all Lazar had shown no interest in him other than to drive him towards bubbling hot fury.

Strange...

Nicaise felt something shift against his chest and looked down. 

He met sweet dark eyes that were almost instantly lost in the fat of flushed baby cheeks. Lyas smiled up at him, refreshed from his ‘nap’. Nicaise almost gasped in alarm over this horrifying new development. This short interlude of sleep meant that Lyas was going to be up for hours now, his sleep schedule fucked up as Laurent often put it when the baby stayed up past bedtime.

“Oh, god-fucking-dammit.” Nicaise groaned.

“Morning.” Lazar said and then slapped his hand against the center console. “ _ Fuck _ ! A baby goose is a ‘gosling’!” And, having helped solve the mystery, Lyas, the little traitor, smiled at Lazar. 


	13. 12:00AM You Want a Gun?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow...SOMEHOW I'm back. You know why? I beat Breath of the Wild and now I know what it's like to have free time again. I run on spite and lust so this story is going to get finished no matter what!
> 
> Also the next two chapters are going to be somewhat quiet in comparison to the previous ones in preparation for the final arc so I hope you guys enjoy Lazar and Nicaise spending time together. Also all of Nicaise's suggestions to Lyas at the beginning of the night came true: they dealt with some drugs, 'hired' a stripper, and now they're going to play some cards. Be careful what you wish for kid haha ;)
> 
> I hope I can start updating regularly again and for those who were patient enough to wait for me, thank you, I love you, and enjoy!

Pallas grumbled under his breath as he drove, clearly of the mindset that Lazar was going to get his ass kicked to Arles and back. From the few Vaskians Nicaise had met, they didn’t seem like the type of people you wanted to owe money to. At least he hoped that a group of terrifying Vaskian women would deter anyone following him.

Lyas, who had not been awake since before the strip club, was laser-focused on Pallas, constantly reaching for his long curls like he did with Damen’s hair. “Lyas, not while he’s driving.” Lyas giggled as Nicaise kissed his hands.

“Elyas, that’s  _ my _ man.” Lazar called back. “No one is allowed to pull his hair except for me.” Lyas, unrepentant, began to reach for Nicaise’s hair instead and Nicaise dutifully handed him a curl.

“So we’re going to visit some Vaskians.”

“Friends of ours.” Lazar said. “They’ll let us hang out for a bit while Baby Beef drives some laps around the city.” Lyas gurgled as he stuffed the end of Nicaise’s curl in his mouth. “Thank you, Elyas. I thought it was a good idea too.”

“You swear you’ll be ok?” Pallas sounded nervous, which did not help Nicaise’s nerves.

“After everything I’ve been through? We’ll be fine. I’ve gotten one teenager out of hell before.”

“I’m not sure if that counts...” Pallas said softly.

The mood in the car became quite awkward with Pallas and Lazar falling silent and Nicaise frowned at the further unsettled feeling it gave him. “If you’re both making vague hints in hopes that I’ll ask about whatever it is you’re talking about, you are shit out of fucking luck. I have my own tragic backstory, thanks; I don’t care about unlocking yours.”

Lazar snickered, breaking the tension and Pallas sighed. “Don’t we all. It’s just up here, Baby Beef; let us off on the curb.”

“Be careful ok?” Pallas jerked the car over towards the curb and leaned in for a kiss, which Lazar willingly gave.

“Where’s the fun in that?” And then, when Pallas gave him a long look, “Haa...don’t worry love. I’ll come back to you, promise.” It hit Nicaise in the gut, hearing that phrase from someone other than Laurent. He wanted to tell Laurent and Damen now, that he and Lyas would come back safe. “You be good too. Don’t bang anyone else unless I’m there.” 

“Get out of my car, slut.” Pallas brought the car to a screeching halt and Lazar spilled out of the passenger seat. When Pallas twisted around to smile at Nicaise and Lyas, Nicaise, strangely, did not want to leave the car. Pallas was steady and comforting in that straightforward Akielon way… “Be safe, little ones. I’ll be sure to lead them away from you and to go get help. We’ll meet again.” A warm hand shuffled his curls and Nicaise let Pallas touch his hair without complaint; he’d earned an unannounced, platonic touch after that driving. “Promise.”

“Thank you.” Nicaise honestly meant it as he slid across the seat. “Say bye, Lyas.” Lyas helpfully babbled and squeaked until Nicaise shut the car door behind them, Pallas waving goodbye in response.

The car tore away from the sidewalk at mach speed and had just turned the corner when Lazar cursed loudly. “Oh, fuck me!”

“What now?”

“Forgot my supplies in the car.” Nicaise noticed then that he was missing his shitty backpack. Sadly it seemed they were out a butane torch and a fistful of bandages.

“Phone?”

“Baby Beef has it.”

Nicaise now viscerally understood Laurent’s contempt for inept people. “This is what happens when you do too many drugs, Lyas. You become a useless fucking idiot.”

“Don’t preach at me, you shifty little bitch. If anywhere is the place to restock, this is it. Now follow me and try to rein in your charming attitude. These Vaskian ladies do  _ not _ fuck around. At least not with skinny dudes.” 

Out of force of habit, Nicaise winced as he followed Lazar into the shop, prepared for any sort of madness at this point. The place did not disappoint.

It looked like an empty fucking room with a singular counter running through it, the woman behind jolting as Lazar all but shouldered the door down. Nicaise was unsure of what exactly was being sold but that quickly took a backseat to more pressing matters.

“Darling!” Lazar said by way of greeting.

“Fuck!” Nicaise yelped, angling his body over Lyas’ as he found himself face-to-face with the barrel of a shotgun.

“Goddess above, Lazar!” The shotgun was put down and the Vaskian woman almost leapt the counter to better yell at Lazar. “The hell are you thinking? Bringing a kid into a gun store?”

“Bryndis! I didn’t expect you here today! Where’s Kash--”

“This is a  _ gun store _ ?” Nicaise shouted in disbelief. “For fuck’s sake, where are we going next? The bleeder seats in an illegal Akielon boxing tournament?”

“No, but that is a  _ fantastic _ idea.”

“Oh, what a sweet baby...” The woman named Bryndis said as she caught sight of Lyas. Nicaise raised the chubby baby arm to make Lyas wave and she brightened even more. “This looks like it’s going to be a long story.”

“I’d like to say,” Nicaise started talking before Lazar could get a word in edgewise, “that this was all Lazar’s idea. I’m just here because I wanted a safe place for my brother and me to hide out for a bit.”

“And weaponry.” Lazar added. 

“You all are in some kind of trouble?” Bryndis asked, crossing her very muscular forearms. 

“Baby--Pallas is leading them away from here.” Lazar promised. “Despite how much I know you love trouble on your doorstep.”

“I wouldn’t be around this bastard if I wasn’t in terrible trouble.” Nicaise said and Bryndis nodded thoughtfully. Clearly she was well-acquainted with Lazar. “Please? Can we stay just...a little while?” He made sure that his eyes were huge and wide as he looked up at her. Though he hated how young and childish his features were, there was something to be said for weaponizing his accursed ‘beauty’.

And Lyas helped too, shifting back and forth as he babbled to himself.

“You can stay.” She sighed. “But lock the front doors. And weaponry is out of the question.”

“This is a weapon store; how the fuck are weapons out of the question?” Nicaise asked Lazar. There was no doubt in Nicaise’s mind that Lazar was somehow at fault for the weapons ban. 

“Yes, why are they out of the question?” Lazar ignored Nicaise’s pointed glare and put on a look of practiced innocence for Bryndis.

“You owe us an absolutely ludicrous amount of money already.” Bryndis said as she crossed her arms. Her smile was indulgent and Nicaise had a feeling that she was planning to give in to him but she was going to make him work for it. “What in the goddess’s name makes you think I’d just give you a gun?”

“Because you love me.” Lazar said instantly, “And I’ve got the most skillful tongue you’ve ever met.”

“Gross.” Nicaise added as he immediately understood the true meaning.

Bryndis cracked a smile and Lazar saw the weakness. “You don’t have to just  _ give  _ it to me either. I’ll play you for it. I assume the others have a game going in the back? You any good at cards kid?” Nicaise tilted his hand back and forth; he was decent at cards but his cheating was not up to par. “Fine. You can help me and Lyas can commentate. Shall we?”

With a sigh, Bryndis vaulted over the counter, giving them a good look at the Vaskian dragon tattooed up and down her leg, and went to lock the front door. “Fine, fine. You stubborn bastard. We’ll deal you in for  _ one hand _ .”

“You don’t know how skilled I am with one hand.” Lazar responded softly, to which Nicaise raised Lyas’ middle fingers towards him.

The back room was sparsely decorated, much like the few Vaskian places Nicaise had been dragged to before, though it was significantly less fancy than Halvik’s palatial mansion in the outskirts of the Marlas city limits. And like most other decent Vaskian establishments, it was populated with women.

“Boys, meet Ilsa, Svana, Thordis, Ylfa, and Hyle. Ladies, the cute ones are Nicaise and Elyas.” Nicaise poked Lyas in the general vicinity of his ribs and Lyas giggled helplessly in a way that was sure to melt a room. “Could you deal me and the green _djävul_ in?”

“You sure you want in on this?” The woman named Ylfa asked with a grin, “We’re playing ‘fire throat rally’: you have to drink a shot after each time you win. I recall you’re not the best drinker.” Lazar made a face of disgust as if to confirm.

“Shocking.” Nicaise said and it was honestly meant. It seemed a little ironic to him that an  _ éprouvette _ would be weak to alcohol of all things. “You’ll guzzle cum but alcohol is beyond you?”

Some of the Vaskian women had raised eyebrows over Nicaise’s mouth but Lazar was used to it. “Had it too much as a kid. I’d rather drink motor oil but I’ll do it to get us some proper weaponry. Ladies, deal me in. If I lose, I’ll get you some grade-A, big boy Akielon sperm and you can put the cost of the buy-in on my tab. If I win, I’d like a gun.”

Thordis offered something to him. “I said ‘gun’, not gum.” Lazar took a piece anyway. 

“Where the fuck are you going to get sperm?” Hyle asked as she shuffled the cards.

“Baby Beef.”

“From what I know, Lazar keeps a stockpile in his ass.” Nicaise said as he settled Lyas onto his lap. “Is Baby--is  _ Pallas _ ok with that?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Lazar shrugged.

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Enough, enough.” Bryndis insisted, placing a semi-automatic pistol in the center of the green felt table. “One hand, winner takes all. Hyle?” Nicaise watched carefully as the cards were dealt and the game began, his Veretian nature intrigued by games, puzzles, and battles of wits.

The Vaskians were good at cards but no one could bluff and cheat quite like a Veretian.

Nicaise had learned that from observing his Grandmother Hennike absolutely destroying her sons at a similar game, outfoxing Laurent and out-bluffing Auguste. Lazar would fit in admirably with how carelessly he seemed to lay down cards, his strategy chaotic, but victory coming to him easily.

Nicaise was entirely unsurprised when Lazar won, taking the celebratory shot of the hakesh afterwards. He pulled back the slide of the pistol with the ease of someone who’d handled a lot of firearms in the past. “Fun stuff. Want to wager again?”

“What on earth do you want to wager for now?” Refna asked in disbelief.

“You want a gun?” Lazar asked before blowing a massive pink bubble, Lyas laughing as it popped in Nicaise’s face.

“You’ll give me a gun?” Nicaise felt a strange mixture of terror and elation in his chest. He had so often as a child nursed tender dreams of having a gun, of being fearful to the people who were coming to hurt him. But that much power was terrifying and...he wasn’t actually sure he could shoot someone, especially if he was holding Lyas.

Laurent would have stoutly refused such a thing and Damen would have gone white but Lazar seemed perfectly at ease with the idea.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Bryndis interrupted before Nicaise could accept. “If you give that,” she seemed at a loss as to what Nicaise’s age was, “skinny thing a gun, I’m going to let him shoot you once and then take it away.”

“I want it.” Nicaise said quickly.

“Svana?” Lazar raised his eyebrows and did something with his face that might have been a pout on a more attractive person. The table erupted into chaos.

“No.  _ No _ !” Bryndis insisted as Nicaise turned to Lazar in a fury, “The fuck was  _ that _ face?” 

“Lazar with  _ two  _ guns?”

“It was a seductive  _ glance _ , you uncultured little bitch.” 

“We could get more money out of him.” Ilsa added meekly amongst the shouting.

“You looked like you were being ass-fucked by a rosebush.” Nicaise was almost halfway across the table so that Lazar could better hear his insults.

“Enough with the guns!”

“Nababababaaaa!” Lyas was thrilled to be within arm’s reach of a nicely stacked tower of poker chips and squealed as he knocked them over with both hands. 

“The baby makes an excellent point.” Lazar said, carefully blowing another massive pink bubble. “What if you just take some of the money from my outstanding debt with you ladies?”

“Our boss would  _ kill _ us.” Hyle said.

“Not the full amount.” Lazar insisted with a smile that was all practiced innocence. “Just enough to recoup your losses? Hell, throw a little baby knife in there if the amount is too much.” It was clear that his blas _ é _ attitude irritated the Vaskian women as they gauged each other’s willingness to gamble with quick glances and tapping fingernails.

“Fine.” Bryndis sighed.

Lazar was already reaching for the bottle of liquor and handed it off to Nicaise. He could smell the alcohol fumes from an arm’s length away. “Pour me another, you wee bitch, and let’s get to it!”

Nicaise stole the ace of hearts and gave it to Lyas to gnaw on as he watched the madness continue. 

Lazar was remarkably steady on his feet by the time the Vaskians had felt they’d lost enough to cut him off. Nicaise had lost count of the shots taken, but the bottle had been vastly depleted and Lyas had chewed the corners off of the queen of spades and a two of diamonds in that time. Damen liked listening to sappy music when he was drunk and Laurent became soft and talkative so Nicaise was watching Lazar like a hawk to deduce any symptoms.

“Have something you want to say?” Lazar asked without looking over, his voice smooth and unbothered. “Lyas need another card?” From out of seemingly nowhere came a fresh ace of hearts and Nicaise narrowed his eyes as he remembered the playing cards Lazar had tucked into his pocket back at the apartment.

“Fuck! I forgot about those. I  _ knew _ you were cheating.”

“I’m shit at cards. Great at cheating.”

“Why am I not surprised? And why aren’t you drunk?”

“Because I’m not a little bitch. Svana!”

Svana rolled her eyes as she lobbed a package directly at Lazar’s head. “You all are leaving then?” Nicaise stiffened as the woman wandered over and put her arms around Nicaise’s shoulders. “You’re welcome to stay. Or...at least the kids are welcome to stay.”

“I’d better get out of here before your hot boss finds out how many times you lost to me.” Lazar joked as Svana clearly thought about twisting his balls. “I’m not leaving them behind either. No matter if you squeeze Nicaise so hard you break his ribs.” Thankfully she released him after that, smiling down at him without realizing how much Nicaise had hated the entire experience.

“Well if you need to come back, we’ll keep the door open for you.”

Thanks…” Nicaise murmured, hugging Lyas to transfer the strange warm, tight feeling out of his body into his brother’s. 

“You gonna be alright?” Lazar teased once Svana had fucked off somewhere else.

“I wasn’t hugged much as a kid.” Nicaise spat back. “Not used to it, honestly.” It was the truth. The first time his Akielon grandmother Egeria had given him a hug, he had remained rigid and uncomfortable. It felt like being pinned and it was still difficult seeing a hug as something tender and loving. 

“Fair enough. I think I had the opposite problem. I would recommend a solid stab in the kidneys to unwanted huggers but...those Vaskian women will fuck you up.”

“Stab them with what? And why are you so insistent on giving me a weapon?” Nicaise asked as he pulled Lyas out of the backpack. Lazar grinned as Lyas gripped Nicaise’s knees so that he could stomp on the floor. 

“Can I?” Lazar reached out his hand towards Lyas’ little face. 

Lyas smiled back at him even though Nicaise’s hackles were up. Even after all Lazar had done for him...he was not sure he trusted the man enough with even one finger on his baby brother. At least he’d asked.

“Just this once. But you have to answer my question. And you can’t--” Nicaise put his hands on Lyas’ hips as a silent marker. If Lazar’s touch went any lower then Nicaise would insist on taking Lazar’s advice and stabbing him in the kidney. 

“Honk.” Lazar pinched Lyas’ button nose and Lyas rocked back and forth in delight.

“That’s  _ it _ ?”

Lazar shrugged. “You don’t seem to like people touching you, yeah?” It occurred to Nicaise then that Lazar, despite being touchy and lustful with most of the people they had encountered that night, had never once attempted to touch Nicaise aside from when they were escaping the apartment building. “I’ve told you before that I’m not too good in a fight unless it’s a dick measuring contest; you should have a way to defend yourself.”

“I’ll just push you in front of them. Human shield.”

“How fucking thoughtful. After that?”

Nicaise had ideas of what he  _ could _ do to buy himself more time, none of them pleasant, and pressed his knees so hard into his chest that he hoped it would bruise. “Haven’t thought that far ahead. I assumed they’d be too shocked by you trying to suck their dicks.”

“Well, in that case,” Lazar reached over, extending a slim bar of black metal to Nicaise, though Lyas reached for it, “Not for you, baby. Maybe I’ll get you one when you get older but this one is for your brother.”

The metal was warm in his hand and Nicaise felt equally warm. That someone would do something for him before Lyas, the more loveable of the two of them, that he had reached this ‘milestone’ first made him feel...strangely mature.

There was a smooth, round button on the handle, like the saltwater pearls of his grandmother Egeria’s earrings, and when he pressed it, a slim, silver blade popped out. About six inches long, Nicaise imagined pushing it to the chest of his former handler and pressing the button, jabbing the heartless meat-sack with spring-loaded steel.

“Switchblade.” Lazar explained. “Lightweight and easy to hide, it’s good for surprise attacks if someone’s too close. Stabbed my first man with a knife like this when I was thirteen.”

“Congratulations on that.”

“Anyways, if my dick sucking skills aren’t up to par, gods forbid, you stab anyone messing you with this and then get the hell out, yeah?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Though it was not a gun, he would take anything he could get at this point. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Giving a kid a weapon is probably the fourth most heinous thing I’ve done tonight so...don’t worry about it.”

Nicaise pushed down on the lever to return the blade back into the handle and then locked the mechanism so that the blade did not shoot out by accident and stab his ass. The switchblade went into the spot between his foot and his shoe.

“So...what now?”

Lyas reached his chubby hands out towards Lazar and Lazar let him tug hard on his pinkie finger. “We should find somewhere else to go and hope that your guardians are faster trackers than whoever is following us.”

“My godfather is really good.” Nicaise said, thinking of Makedon. 

On their first meeting, Makedon had eyed him with the supreme ease of a man who feared nothing; after Nicaise had called him him a ‘crusty old cunt’ and said he had no interest in being Makedon’s godson, Makedon just raised one eyebrow and said, “try and stop me.” Nicaise had been unable to do so and now, luckily, had a powerful Akielon godfather against his will.

“You should go somewhere with a lot of people.” Refna suggested as she passed them on the way to the storeroom. “It will be harder for anyone to try and drag you anywhere quietly. Also if your parents are looking for you then they’re more likely to find you in a place with lots of cameras or where your locations will be time-stamped. They’ll get a better idea of how close they are to you.”

“They’re not my parents.” Nicaise sighed, almost beyond correcting people now.

“Lots of cameras huh?” 

That hit Nicaise hard as he thought of spindly tripods like the bars of a cage and glossy, cold camera lenses trained on him.  _ Alone for a moment on a bare mattress _ . “I don’t like cameras.”

“Same.” Lazar agreed. “Amateur porn is tricky.”

“You’re not taking me to a porn set.” Nicaise insisted. His breath came in short gasps and he could feel that his eyes were enormous and unblinking. Lazar saw--the bastard saw  _ everything _ \--and his smile was reassuring.

“Hey.  _ Hey _ . I’m not taking you to a porno set. Shit’s gross.”

“Bold word from a man who’d fuck anyone who threatens to kill him.”

“I like fucking, don’t get me wrong. But not for porn.” Lazar raised his eyebrows. “There’s no love or lust behind it. Just business. It’s not... worth it.” 

“You love all these people you ask to fuck?” Pallas made sense but...Lazar seemed like he’d be content to fuck half the city if they’d let him.

“In a way. I can fall in love with most people given time...unless I consider them shitty people.” A natural slut then. “But I swear I’m not taking you to a fucking porno shoot.” He wasn’t lying; he liked to annoy Nicaise with his madness and would not pass such an opportunity up. 

Nicaise sighed in silent relief as he rested his cheek on his knees. Lyas grinned back at him as he patted a soft drumbeat on the baby’s tiny back. “So I guess we’ve got to figure out what to do now.”

Lazar shrugged. “I have an idea. Might be trouble though.”

Nicaise thought he had liked trouble but Lazar was helping him set new limits. “Well...nothing new there. Let’s hear it.”


End file.
